FateTerminus
by leonvongolaeleventh
Summary: When the omnipotent wish-granting device known as the Holy Grail is destroyed at the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War, the world at large believe it to be gone. That is until fourteen years later, when Command Seals reappear on the hands of seven mages from around the globe. Once again called to battle for the Grail, these seven new Masters (some familiar, some not) fight for victoy
1. Chapter 1

_Fate/Terminus_

Disclaimer: We don't own Fate Stay or any TYPE-MOON properties, scenarios, or characters. They belong exclusively to TYPE-MOON and Kinoko Nasu. This is purely a fan fiction written for entertainment purposes. Now, without further ado, begin Part 1.

chapter 1 Part 1

Location: Mage's Association Headquarters, London

"And in conclusion, I challenge you all to broaden your horizons, both in this class and in your daily lives." Lord El-Melloi II clapped his hands once, startling his students in the lecture hall and bringing his lesson to an end. The gigantic bell of the Clock Tower began to chime, signaling the end of morning classes and the beginning of lunch period. As the students filed out of the lecture hall, chatting amicably amongst themselves, he gathered his things and walked out of the hall with them, aiming for lunch in his office.

Within moments, he had arrived at his office, pushing open his solid oak door. The room was small, crowded, but comfortable, with an old, careworn desk in the far right corner, bookshelves lining both the left and right-hand walls. Hanging behind the door was a large white T-shirt, bearing the logo for the video game Admirable Tactics on it. The back wall was taken up entirely by glass paneling, interrupted only by the reverse image of a massive number 6, through which the city of London could be seen sprawled out in all of its glory and was one of the benefits of having your office in the Mage's Association headquarters, the Clock Tower, Big Ben, London, England.

Lord El-Melloi II smiled and reached into a drawer in his desk for the bag containing his lunch when there was a knock on the door. He sighed. His sandwich would have to wait. "Come in," he said quietly.

The door creaked open, timidly, and one of his students entered shyly. He couldn't blame them. At well over six feet, Lord El-Melloi II struck an imposing figure, his sleek, straight black hair falling to his broad shoulders. The red coat he wore over his vest, shirt, and the tie was the color of fresh blood, and his hands were tipped in long, strong fingers. He was a harsh, strict teacher and he rarely smiled in front of his students. Absent-mindedly, he tipped the sole picture on his desk onto its face, obscuring the view of himself, smiling many years ago, arm slung over the shoulder of a broad, auburn-haired man. That photograph, he thought, was from a long time ago, when he was a different person, bore a different name.

Waver Velvet. He smiled sadly. Waver Velvet was weak. I'm stronger now, thanks to him. It was all thanks to him.

His student cleared her throat, rousing him from his thoughts. He smiled and looked up from his desk to meet her eyes. It was Catherine, he thought, Catherine Le'Montaine, the heir to the Le'Montaine mage family from Northern France. "How can I help you, Catherine?" he asked kindly.

Catherine shifted on her feet nervously. She had mid-length brown hair, pale skin, and soft cheeks dotted with freckles that framed her hazel eyes. She was short, nearly two heads shorter than Lord El-Melloi II, and thinner as well. She wore a white sleeveless top, over which she wore a dull blue coat that ended at her upper thigh. She also wore black pants with a pair of black and blue trainers. From her backpack hung multiple bobbleheads and buttons, most of them related to anime. She was an unusual character, El-Melloi noted, as the brunette student had an obsession with all things Japanese.

Seeing as how she hadn't spoken, El-Melloi smiled wider, in order to put her more at ease. It didn't work, but it did invite her into speaking. "I've finished my term paper, sir," she said meekly, removing the assignment from her backpack. Lord El-Melloi took the paper from her and cast his eyes over it briefly. When he saw the heading, his eyes widened.

"A Rebuke of 'How Wizardry Should Be in the New Century'?" An interesting choice for a paper." Despite his tone, he visibly bristled. "That treatise isn't really popular, so I'm surprised you managed to find it. You disagree with Mr. Velvet's ideas on aptitude?"

She nodded, blushing slightly. "I mean, it's a unique idea, but arguing that a mage can increase his power within his own lifetime, by dedication rather than bloodline, is against the entire system of magic everywhere." She blushed even harder. "There was only one example I could find to prove Mr. Velvet's point. I think his name was Shirou Emiya, right? He had no bloodline to speak of, yet he mastered the skill of mimicry to such an extent he created a Reality Marble! I read about him in the archives. I guess in that way, Velvet's report has some truth, but I can't see any evidence anywhere else. I guess Emiya was a fluke."

El-Melloi nodded, his eyes narrowed. His forehead furrowed slightly. She's very shy, but this student knows more than she lets on in class. "I'm already acquainted with Mr. Emiya, if only briefly. I had a chance encounter with him during my stay in Japan a few years ago. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

She seemed as if she had something else to see, and Lord El-Melloi noticed her visibly grasp her right hand. He paid it no mind. "No. Thank you, Professor," she said, and left his office, the door creaking behind her.

Lord El-Melloi II returned his attention to her paper, which, according to its thesis statement, was a complete and utter rebuttal of his very own treatise, written at the young and foolish age of 19. That had been way back, when he was Waver Velvet before he had taken on the name and Crest of his tutor, teacher, and enemy- Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald. Before he had taken part in the most momentous challenge that any mage could face, the challenge that had gained him and lost him the only friend he had ever known.

The Holy Grail War.

* * *

Location: Youth Hostel Storeroom, London, England

She was almost ready, but just a few moments more and she could begin the long and complex process of summoning a Servant to this world through the power of the Holy Grail. Her materials were all set up. Candles glowed dimly in the offings of the cement-lined storeroom, illuminating the complex summoning circle she had painted onto the floor in blood. She stood beside it, watching the circle intently. In a few moments, she would bring about the Heroic Spirit that would achieve glory for the Le'Montaine family. All Catherine had to do now was say the words.

"Let silver and steel be the essence.

Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.

Let red be the color I pay tribute to.

Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.

Let the four cardinal gates close.

Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."

"Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling."

Catherine gripped her chosen relic in her hand, a shining silver arrowhead, feeling the cold metal beneath her fingers grow warm with the rising energies in the room. The summoning circle had begun to glow, its white light growing brighter and brighter with every passing second. A cold wind began to blow through the room, emanating from the circle, carrying with it icy mist that made every hair on her arms and neck stand on end. This was it, she thought. "I've got you," she said to no one in particular, as the light swelled in intensity. The crimson Command Seals on her hand, marking her as a Master, began to grow warm.

There was a brilliant flash of light, forcing Catherine to cover her eyes. The mist gathered into a column, a dark form appearing within it, becoming more and more clear as the mist cleared. My Servant, she thought giddily. More details became apparent the closer she looked. He was male, judging by his massive figure, complete with broad shoulders and arms corded with muscle. His skin was pale, Caucasian, clashing with his vivid blue eyes that sat beneath his wide, proud brow and short, golden blond hair. A mustache clung to his upper lip. A brown, animal-hide vest could barely contain the bulk of his upper body, and he also wore a black belt and long green trousers that fell to his ankles, a pair of heavy boots adorning his feet. Clasped loosely in one hand was a crossbow made of dark wood, its metal trimmings done in solid, matte iron.

Catherine lifted her right hand, upon which her Command Seals now gleamed with bright red light. The three red symbols dazzled before her widened eyes. They held the appearance of an arrow hitting a target. Regaining her composure, she lowered her hand and cleared her throat. The Servant in the circle turned to face her. His expression was calm, as if appearing in a concrete basement, surrounded by candles and mist with only a teenage girl for company was the most normal thing in the world.

She bowed, unsure if that was the proper conduct from the Spirit's home time and land, but she hoped it would appease the Spirit. What she did not expect was for the Spirit to began chuckling. His voice was deep and rumbling, strong enough to echo around the mountains for a good long while before it faded away. "Well. I am not sure if I require that much respect. After all, you are my Master. In this quest for the Grail, I am the Archer-class Servant, I suppose. Allow me to lend you the strength of my bow, so that we may both achieve our goals. May I be so bold to ask of you your name?" He knelt and bowed his head, shocking Catherine. She hadn't expected a Heroic Spirit, a hero from history and legend, to be so… submissive.

"M-mmy name is Catherine. Nice to meet you," she mumbled. He certainly was interesting. Though quite quiet, the Heroic Spirit demanded a presence just by being there. His eyes were sharp, like those of a hawk- always vigilant even with his relaxed demeanor; the eyes of a true warrior. No, she thought, more like a hunter.

"Catherine," muttered the Servant. "That is indeed an intriguing name. Pleased to meet you, Catherine. I feel as if we shall work very well together."

* * *

Location: Fuyuki City, Japan

In the Edelfelt household, all was not still. In the converted living room that now functioned as a dojo, father Ron Edelfelt and son Simon Edelfelt were beating the crap out of each other, mint-green light glowing along their arms and enhancing the strengths of their fists and bodies beyond normal limits. Each of them was drenched in sweat, panting for breath, bruised and battered from the other's attacks. This was not that odd an occurrence, for the two sparred like this every day. The two were in good spirits and grinning widely, but one occupant of the dojo was in a foul mood.

Man I freaking hate him! Just 'cause he is older. he gets to do all the cool stuff!, an aggravated Kanima Edelfelt thought as he once again was watching from the sidelines as his older brother of two years, Simon, was engaging in his daily magic practice with their father. Kanima, aged 21, had dark blue hair that was as always an untamable mess, with eyes that were a light, reddish-brown. He had a lithe body from years of physical training that he needed to handle the family magic of the Edelfelts, which specialized in full body enhancements and alteration. His father Ron had once been known as the physically strongest mage in Japan, capable of splitting a mountain with his bare fists. Yet as of now, Kanima, his son, had only barely mastered strengthening with his underdeveloped magic circuits. Most of the magics of the Edelfelt family went with tradition to Simon, the eldest son.

There was only one thing that he bested his brother in, and that was the creation of seals, which traditionally the Edelfelts had never been good at. Summoning circles were far from the minds of the burly, brawny Edelfelt mages, who used their magically strengthened fists rather than familiars to fight their battles. Simon had basically no artistic skill whatsoever, which made the drawing of magical seals especially difficult. But for Kanima, whose only "A" in school had been in art class and P.E., seal creation was easy as pie.

He had proved this to himself when his father had asked him yesterday to retrieve some sort of magic ring from the basement. He had seen the weird, gigantic summoning seal his brother had attempted to draw in the basement. It was shoddy at best, its lines wonky and crooked, almost so much that the shape was very nearly not a circle at all. The red ink (or was it blood) was faded in several places. The sight of it made Kanima laugh out loud.

I could draw a circle ten times better than that, he thought, huffing. Then, a spark lit up in his mind, and his eyes widened. Today, he decided, while Simon was distracted with sparring practice, he would fix the seal and rub it in his older brother's face. Sneaking into the basement under the cover of clashing magical fists, he saw the seal and a stack of old books and texts on the counter across the basement. He picked one up, whose cover was mostly worn away, with only the words "Summoning" and "Heroic" remaining intact.

The first page was similarly in disarray.

In order to… Spirit, a mage must… Relic of some importance to the desired Spirit…

Kanima couldn't take it anymore and put the book down. A relic? he thought. Dad's got a crap-ton of old stuff down here. I could use one of those.

With this in mind Kanima began his hunt for a suitable relic. The basement was filled with boxes of ancient crap that his father had collected for his magecraft. After almost half an hour of searching- not to mention several liters of dust- he found an old jewel shaped like a dragon that caught his eye. Unlike the other stuff in the basement, it still glimmered with pale light that reflected on its crimson surface. Attached to it was a sticky-note with writing on it that matched Simon's straight-laced script, which Kanima threw away and walked with it to the circle.

Accidentally, he tripped over a box and the stone flew out of his hand, landing smack dab in the middle of the shoddy circle. Kanima looked up and tried to stand before the circle began to glow the color of blood. He cried out, covering his mouth so Simon wouldn't hear, and scampered backwards onto his feet, clenching his fists. "What the hell are you doing?" he said to the circle quietly, as the light began to increase in intensity, turning white. Mist began to coil around the circle, and Kanima's mouth went dry.

I must have activated it- he thought, but his thoughts were cut off by a roar of white light as the steam rose into a swirling pillar, casting wind throughout the room. Before he could react, something flashing silver launched from the steam, backing him up against the wall, the tip of a pointy, shiny blade at his throat.

Kanima's eyes widened. It's a girl?, he thought. And indeed it was, if an extremely odd girl. She was shorter than him by about a half a foot, with dirty blonde hair that fell down to her waist in two braided ponytails. She wore an armored blue corset, with metal plating covering the breast, shoulders, and upper arm. Her forearms were bare, save for a pair of leather studded gloves, hands tight on the blade of a great big, ornate broadsword. From the waist down, she wore what appeared to be shorts that cut off at her mid thigh, also armored, greaves and knee plates, and a blue mantle that she had tied around her waist. She was easily one of the prettiest women Kanima had ever seen, he had to admit. She was beautiful in a fierce, warrior-woman sort of way.

Her brown eyes were wild. "Who are you, and where am I?" she looked around the basement, not sure exactly what she was looking at.

"Um, I guess you're in my basement?" said Kanima, but it came out like a question. At the sound of his voice, she pressed her sword closer to his throat. Kanima gulped, and cold sweat dripped down his brow. No talking, idiot.

"Your basement?" she demanded. "Is this some sly admission of your attempt to have your way with me? If so, I shall slay you here and now."

"Have my way with you, what-" His eyes widened with understanding. "No! No! It's not like that! I mean, you're pretty hot, but I've just met you. Maybe we should introduce ourselves. I'm Kanima Edelfelt!" He waved his hand and gave his best pearly-white smile. "Hello!"

She did not wave back, but she did back off, bringing her blade to her side. Kanima noticed that her eyes seemed to be fixed upon his right hand. He looked at it and gasped. On the back of it, three red symbols burned with light. "Those are… Command Seals," she breathed in awe.

"Command Seals?" asked Kanima. "What are you talking about, Command Seals?" He pointed to the red thing on the back of his hand. "Is this it?"

The girl nodded.

"Okay," said Kanima, still quite confused. "So what does it mean?"

"It means you are my Master. Before we start, I must know your intentions. If I find them to be unworthy, make no mistake. I will kill you." Before he could answer, there was a shout from upstairs and the basement door slammed open as Simon and his father practically tumbled into the basement. Simon was panting heavily, eyes narrow like slits, pointing an accusatory finger at Kanima.

"What-" he gasped, angrily and breathlessly, "The hell did you do?"

"I don't know!" Kanima shouted. He waved to the circle and the girl. "I have no idea what just happened here! This is all your stuff, Simon!"

Simon lunged across the room and grabbed Kanima by the throat. The girl gritted her teeth and hefted her sword to attack Simon, but Kanima held her back with a hand. "No," he said. "He's my brother." The girl nodded and lowered her sword.

Simon growled. "My Command Seals just vanished all of a sudden," he said in a low, angry voice. "They're on your hand now, and the Servant I was trying to summon is here now, all without me doing anything! What the hell did you do!"

"I don't know what any of this does!" cried Kanima, gesturing frantically at the circle and the relic that lay inside it. "Who the hell do you think I am? I don't know anything about magic! That's all you, pal!"

"Well, let me educate you, then," Simon said, throwing his brother onto the floor. His teeth ground in his mouth. "You, you freaking dumbass, you summoned my Servant for the Holy Grail War and took my Command Seals! The Grail chose me as a Master because I'm the capable mage in this family! If you try to fight in the Grail War, you'll end up dead!"

Their father cleared his throat. "I believe I may have found the root of the problem."

"What!" snapped Simon and Kanima at the same time, then went back to glaring at eachother.

"The way you've drawn this circle, Simon," said their father quietly. He tapped it with a foot. "Its runes are written so that whoever summons Saber here-" he pointed to the girl, who nodded, "-becomes her Master. I'd probably have made the same mistake, but you should have written it so that you, specifically you, would be her Master when she is summoned. I don't think you ever thought someone else would summon Saber before you."

Simon stomped his foot and seethed. "But this makes no sense! Kanima basically isn't a mage! The only magic he can use is simple strengthening tricks and a few simple seals he designed! Nothing else! He can't possibly command a Servant and succeed in the Grail War. All this will do is lead Kanima to his death! We'll lose everything we've worked for!"

Ron Edelfelt rubbed his chin, musing. "Maybe. It's true that you, Simon, are the eldest son, and you know all of the Edelfelt family magics. But, you still don't have my Magic Crest. My son's' life is more important than any proper form of succession, which means that I have no choice but to pass on the Crest to my son who is in the most danger by being a Master. Kanima."

"Like hell you do!" cried Simon. Kanima could feel his heartbeat rising in his chest. After all this time, he was going to get the Edelfelt Magic Crest? It was almost too much to believe. He stuck his tongue out at Simon. Simon, noticing this, swore very very loudly and planted his fist right on Kanima's face. Blood spurted out of Kanima's nose as he was sent flying, but as he went, Saber shot past him and thrust the point of her sword directly above Simon's heart. He froze.

"You didn't let me finish, Simon." said their father, pulling him away from Saber's blade. "Kanima will get my Magic Crest, but since he is not a proper mage I can't let him actively participate. For all intents and purposes, you are Saber's Master. Kanima will merely supply mana to the Servant. It will be up to you to protect Kanima and win us the Grail. If you win it, I'm certain the wish you can offer to it will grant you your rights to the Magic Crest back."

Simon nodded. "Sounds alright to me." he said snidely. "Looks like we're gonna have to do this as a team, little bro, as much as I hate that."

Kanima stood up and wiped blood away from his nose. "Yeah, I guess. But you're stupid if you think I'm gonna let you do all the work."

Simon grinned evilly. "Say, I've got an idea. How 'bout, we work together to eliminate all the other Servants and Masters, but when we're done, you and I duke it out to see who gets the Grail? That sound fair?"

Kanima grinned right back. Mint-green light burned around his right fist, turning his Command Seals black. "You've got yourself a deal, big bro."

Finally making her presence known once more, the girl- Saber- spoke. "I agree to these terms. I will serve the both of you, as your Saber-class servant."

* * *

Location: Ibori Palace, West African Nation

Prince Ishmael Ibori III was awakened from his slumber by the arrival of his butler into his chambers. The prince reclined on a luscious couch decorated with fluffy pillows and soft silky animal skins, including such rarities as a Bengal white tiger. He wore an olive-green military uniform as was typical of his country's elite, but had unbuttoned the jacket to reveal his smooth, coffee-brown chest beneath. His short, dark hair clung close to his scalp, and he had dark lips and eyes. His chest slowly rose and fell in sleep until his butler nudged his shoulder.

"My lord," said the man quietly. A Somali native named Jem, his butler was Ishmael's one true friend. The butler nudged his liege again, and the prince awoke. "Sir, the assembly has gathered. They are waiting for your address."

Ishmael mumbled, "Alright, alright." He got up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Leave me for a little while I prepare, yeah?"

"As you wish." Jem exited the chambers through the door. Ishmael stood up fully and snapped his fingers. He began to button up his uniform.

"Lancer," he said sternly. "It is time to make our appearance."

A shower of blue mist cascaded next to Ishmael's shoulder, and his Servant appeared behind him. Tall and lean, Lancer had olive skin typical to the Mediterranean, and silver hair that was slicked back into spikes on his head. His eyes were bright green. He wore a form-fitting sleeveless black top with two heavy bronze armor plates adorning his shoulders, with similarly a similarly constructed gauntlet circling his right hand. He had loose-fitting, baggy trousers that came to a tight cinch around his ankles. He wore simple sandals on his feet, and carried in his left hand a gigantic spear, twice his length that was the color and texture of lead. It was this spear that gave him the title of Lancer-class Servant.

Lancer shrugged his shoulders. "I still don't understand the point of this grandstanding. I am a Servant, meant to be a secret weapon for your Holy Grail War. Yet here you are, parading me about every other day in front of a massive crowd of people. It boggles my imagination."

Ishmael finished buttoning up his shirt and sighed. "I already told you, Lancer. What we are doing here has no influence on the Grail War. This is merely for publicity within my own country. I stand to inherit rule of this place from my father in exactly one year. I cannot take power unless I have convinced the people that I am strong enough. Demonstrating the strength of my Heroic Spirit will do the job excellently."

Lancer huffed. "Perhaps."

"There's no 'perhaps' about it, Lancer. It's an effective tack." He frowned and lifted his right hand. "Come now, or would you have me use a Command Seal for something so trivial?"

The Servant scowled. "As you wish, Master." Lancer took one step, and his body began to glow with brilliant light until his otherworldly getup was replaced with a strict, crisp military uniform. The two strode across the room, where Ishmael threw open the door to the balcony. The hot African air bore down on him, the sun beating on his skin with its heat. Assembled in the palace courtyard below were many hundreds of civilians, reporters, and soldiers, all waiting to hear the words of their prince. There were many photographs taken, particularly that of Lancer, who had turned in his scowl for an expression of mild indifference.

"My people!" began Ishmael. "Today is a fortuitous day. In just a weeks time, I, the son of your Lord President Ishmael Ibori II, will be taking part in the Sixth Holy Grail War. Together with my servant Lancer, we shall win the Grail for this country and fulfill the wish of my grandfather, this nation's founder! I will be the one to realize the dream we have held for centuries!"

The crowd cheered its loudest then, and Ishmael pumped his fist into the air. I am their beloved Prince, he told himself, smiling. They have my back, one hundred percent, in the upcoming Holy Grail War. Under my rule, the country will be the strongest it has ever been, and I will be the cause.

"Lancer," he said softly. "How about a demonstration of your might? I believe any of your Noble Phantasms shall do."

Lancer grumbled, but reluctantly thrust his spear into the air. The crowd cheered. The tip of the spear began to swirl with inky grey mist, the color of lead, which grew stronger and larger. Within moments, the sun had been blotted out, the sky filled with a cloud the color of poisoned metal.

In the courtyard below, a young man looked up at the cloud of mist with apprehension. He was of average height, with long brown hair and deep crimson eyes. A golden cross hung on a necklace around his neck, and he wore long-sleeved, black clothes despite the heat of the African summer. Nobody had noticed him enter, and nobody would notice him leave. He had had many names, but his current one reflected more closely his origins- Andrei Shelkov.

"Assassin," he said quietly, though it was unlikely he would be heard over the roar of the crowd. "What do you make of this?"

I am detecting a surge of mana from Lancer's weapon, said Andrei's Servant, who was hovering around his Master's body in spirit form. Iobates, as he called it, is most certainly one of his Noble Phantasms. However, without closer analysis I cannot determine its true abilities other than the generation of that dark cloud.

Andrei sniffed the air, catching a whiff of something unusual. "It smells like metal," he said. "Interesting." The assassin recorded this tidbit away into his essentially perfect memory.

Indeed, said Assassin. Ibori is more clever than we give him credit for. In all of these public displays, he has only demonstrated Lancer's Noble Phantasms in a way that makes it impossible to fully determine their effects. We have been here for three months, and we still do not know what powers Iobates contains inside of it.

"And we won't," said Andrei, absent-mindedly fiddling with his cross necklace. "In order to do that, we would have to draw Lancer into an upfront attack. Seeing as how you are of the Assassin class, it would be rather foolish to do so."

Regrettably, my strengths do not include upfront combat, as you have stated, admitted Assassin. And as of yet, the Holy Grail War has not begun. According to our sources, not all the Masters have summoned their Servants yet. While I am all for a preemptive strike, this would be a risk I cannot approve of taking.

Andrei smirked. "Perhaps not. Ibori and I make up two of the five masters who have currently summoned their Servants. Here, in his own country, with all of his people around, we would be at a severe disadvantage. We can take the opportunity to assassinate him upon his arrival in Fuyuki. Come, Assassin. We're done here, for now."

Andrei slipped through the crowd, silently and invisibly. If you were to ask anyone at the address, none would say they had seen the slight young Russian man enter or leave. Walking a few blocks, Andrei located his car- an inconspicuous, beaten-up rental from across the capital- and entered it, driving out of town towards the airport. Now that they were safely out of the range of Ibori's magical detection, Assassin materialized in the passenger's seat of the car.

Andrei's Servant too was of an average height, and in all black clothes. His understated garb was in the style of the Japanese shinobi, or ninja. His spiky hair was of the deepest black, the same color as his sunken, dark eyes. A single katana, inlaid with gold trimming, hung from his waist, and a deep red scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck and the lower half of his face, obscuring much of his true identity. His body was lean and strong, and every movement he made was calculated, swift, and accurate. None of his movements made any sort of sound, almost as if he didn't exist- though, in a way, he didn't.

"Are we to go to Fuyuki now, Master?"

Andrei nodded. "Yes. We are. We've got a lot of work to do, Assassin."

* * *

Location: Matou Household, Japan

Sakura Matou regarded her Servant with what could only be described as jealousy.

Caster stood in the center of her summoning circle, fresh mist coiling from her lithe, pale limbs. She was a figure of exquisite beauty, tall at nearly six feet tall, with slender, long limbs and a well-endowed figure, complimented by her velvety-green gown that trailed lacy trains from its hem and the sleeves. The neckline, while not plunging, revealed enough to be desireable. Caster's hair was a shade of olive-green, falling past her shoulders in curly waves. Jeweled bangles hung from her neck and wrists, a single red gemstone embedded in her forehead. Her golden eyes were cold and hard. The pale green light of the Matou basement cast her in a favorable light.

Sakura was much shorter, with slightly paler skin and a heart-shaped face that was framed by long purple bangs, while the rest of her hair fell to mid-thigh in the back. She wore a simple black dress that cut off at mid-thigh, with heels. Her eyes too were purple. Though many would consider Sakura to be beautiful, she herself did not think so. To her, her own appearance was inferior to the beautiful Servant she had just conjured forth.

Caster raised her fingers, pointing a delicately manicured nail at her Master. The bangles around her wrist jangled as she did so. Her teeth curled into a snarl. "What a disgusting place you have brought me to, my Master." Her voice was high-pitched and soft, with a taste of disdain to it. "It smells of flesh and rotten magic. You've done your best to clean up, I see, but you can't fully remove the scent of those horrid worm familiars."

Sakura ignored her, but deep inside a shiver ran through her at the memory of the worms that had once crawled this basement, the ones that lay dormant in her blood. "Hello, Caster. My name is Sakura Matou, heir to the Matou family of mages. I've summoned you in the capacity of being my Servant in the upcoming Holy Grail War." Her tone was flat, monotone.

"I realized that," said the Servant snidely. "But who am I to argue with a magical pact, being as I am of the Caster class of Servants? Very well, Mistress. May we both work together to obtain the Grail, but before we begin, let me give you one useful piece of information. If you are to get in my way in this conflict, I will kill you."

Sakura shrugged. "If you are to get in my way, I'll kill you too."

Caster chuckled, taking a step out of the summoning circle. "Glad we understand each other, Mistress. I feel, however, we will not have much of a problem. It seems to me that our goals are very similar, you and I."

Sakura began to walk up the stone staircase that led to the rest of the house. "Perhaps they are."

Caster followed her up the stairs. "You seem to be well prepared, Mistress. From the ley lines, I can tell we're in Fuyuki City. You've given us an advantage early on. A wise call. The Grail is soon to be here, and when it comes we shall be right on top of it."

Sakura sighed. "Don't get so excited just yet." she said calmly. "We still have to defeat the other six Servants to obtain the Grail. Honestly, it's a difficult task."

"I don't think it will be," said Caster. Sakura opened the door, just as Caster began to speak again. "After all, you've had practice with this sort of thing, haven't you?"

Sakura froze. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Caster made a sound that could only be described as a giggle. "You and I share a psychic bond of sorts, Mistress. As a Caster-class Servant, it was child's play for me to exploit that to access your memories. You've had a very difficult life, haven't you, Mistress?"

Sakura's body began to shake, dark mist flowing off of her shoulders and hair. Caster took her shoulders in her hands, a purring sound rising in her throat. "You're a lot like me, in that regard," the Servant said. "Taken in by a family I didn't belong too, raised into magecraft without my consent and then scorned for it, ending my life loveless and alone. The only fruits of my existence had been chaos and death. We both want to fix ourselves, don't we? That's our deepest wish."

"You don't understand," said Sakura, shoving Caster away. The Servant let herself fall, before vanishing in a cloud of red mist and reappearing at the top of the stairs.

"I do, dearest Mistress." Caster said quietly. Her beautiful face had a troubled expression. "If only you would realize."

Sakura clenched her fists. "Please stand guard outside the house. I have things I need to prepare."

The Servant bowed. "As you wish, my Mistress." She disappeared in a rain of red mist. Sakura clung to the doorframe for a moment, then continued on her way. This was not a good start. Not good at all, she thought.

* * *

Location: Fuyuki City Airspace, Japan

"Is this the place, my lady?" Rider waved a hand at the misty light-figures that danced around the deck of his sun barge, ordering them to begin a descent. His Master, Ivysviel von Einzbern, sat on the throne at the rear of the ship. She was small in stature, barely thirteen years old, with white hair and red eyes typical of all Einzbern homunculi, of which she was the last. She shivered as the icy wind above the clouds cut into her skin with its freezing teeth.

"Yes," she said. "I don't see why we couldn't have taken a plane, Rider." She folded her arms and shivered. "It's so cold up here. How aren't you cold?"

It was indeed a good question. Rider was a swarthy giant of a man, all muscle and golden-brown skin, with flowing black hair that whipped in the wind and a short beard that channeled his chin into a point. He wore nothing but an ornately trimmed loincloth of white linen and a deep red cloak over his broad shoulders. Two golden bracers adorned his wrists, while armored greaves covered his shins and ankles. With such little clothing, and considering his land of origin, he should have been freezing.

"Mine is the radiance of the sun god," said Rider. "As such, cold does not affect me."

Ivy, as she was known, huffed. "That's just because I summoned you with the Sun King affinity. It makes it so that you aren't able to be harmed by the effects of the weather or weather-based magic." She shivered again. "I shouldn't have done that. Maybe then we could've taken a plane."

The golden prow of the barque cut through the cloud layer, and the nighttime lights of Fuyuki city below came into view. "There is no fun in taking a plane." said Rider, folding his arms. "I intend to ride into a new land of my own volition, in my own craft, with the vault of heaven overhead and the broad sea and city below. That is true beauty."

Ivy frowned. "I never would have thought a brute like you would be interested in beauty."

Rider's teeth gritted. "Of course I am! Everything I do is in the pursuit of beauty!" He spread his arms wide, as if to take in the whole expanse of the city. The boat sank lower and lower in the sky, clouds streaking behind it in its wake. Ivy stood up and tugged on his cloak.

"Aren't you afraid we're going to get noticed?" she demanded.

"Not one bit." said Rider. "We have no need to fear being seen. I am confident that I am strong enough to keep you safe, my Master."

Ivy stomped her foot. "That's not the point! You have to stay hidden for now, Rider! I don't want the other Masters to know your identity! If they find that out, they could learn the strengths of your Noble Phantasms!"

Rider scoffed. "Plenty of others have had a ship such as mine. There is no consequence to our enemies seeing my Solar Barque."

Ivy frowned. "Still, we need to be careful. Take us down off the docks and then get rid of the boat. You're strong enough to jump to shore from a distance, right?'

"More than strong enough," said Rider, thumping his bare chest. The ship touched down into the sea, almost a half a mile from the lights of the docks. Rider scooped up his Master in his arms, then launched himself off of the boat and into the air towards dry land. Ivy noticed the ship disappear in a shower of gold vapor the instant Rider's feet left the deck. The wind rushed through her hair as the two of them soared through the night sky, before landing with a resounding crash on the docks. Ivy winced at the noise.

Rider noticed, letting her down gingerly. She stretched her legs and yawned. "That was the worst trip I've ever been on." she said, irritatedly.

"I'm sure you meant that as an insult, considering as I am of the Rider class," said Rider. "Nevertheless, I'll let it slide. I'm just happy we have made it to the site of our upcoming battle."

"Yeah, same here." said Ivy. "If it's alright, you should probably go into spirit form until we get set up at a proper base."

"As if!" said Rider sternly. "How do you expect a thirteen-year-old girl to acquire a substantial amount of property for a base without a guardian? I can pose as your father."

"That won't be necessary." said a thin, male voice. Approaching down the docks was a tall, thin man in a black suit. He had white hair that fell to his shoulders and red eyes, similar to Ivy. He was so similar, they could have been family. Which they were.

"Master Justinian," said Rider, folding his arms. "I should have suspected. Ivysviel, you should have informed me to a new member of our party."

Ivy ran up to Justinian and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry, Rider. But Justinian will make a more convincing guardian then you will. My family sent him specifically to look after me."

Rider's eyes widened. "But that's my task!"

"Your task is to kill the other Servants, Rider," said Ivy. "This's been the strategy since I became a Master. Justinian will take care of me defensively, while your job is taking out the other Masters and Servants. After all, your defensive capabilities aren't as high as they could be. I wanted to make sure my Servant had extremely high offensive capability."

Rider smiled. "Indeed, the attack has always been my specialty." He turned to Justinian. "Very well, Justinian von Einzbern. I shall allow you to protect my Master, while I shall win her battle. A shrewd strategy indeed." He vanished into a stream of golden sparks.

Justinian tilted his head. "He seems…"

"Bombastic?" Ivy finished. "Yeah, he is. That's one of the biggest drawbacks for a Rider-class Servant, defensively I mean. They aren't so good at hanging back and playing defense. They've got to charge in and fight, leading an army behind them if they can. A lot of kings and emperors get reincarnated into Rider class, because of their tendency to lead a battle from a chariot."

"But he has a boat."

Ivy shrugged. "I've got absolutely no idea what that's about. I think I prefer it to a chariot, honestly. It can fly, and the ride is a lot smoother so long as he's not flying too high. Plus, its bound to have a bunch of weapons hidden in it somewhere."

Justinian smiled slightly. "It appears then that you have acquired the best Servant for your strategy, Ivysviel. Father will be pleased."

"Don't get me started on him." said Ivy.

"Then I won't," replied Justinian. He strode back off into the darkness. "I'll bring the car around. I've already found temporary accommodations until we can set up a more permanent foundation in Fuyuki."

"Good," said Ivy, as her cousin skulked off into the shadows. She stretched the weariness out of her limbs and smiled. After hours of flying on Rider's barge, it would be heavenly to rest at even a two-star hotel.

And I need rest, she said. God knows I'm not going to get much, once the Holy Grail War begins.

* * *

Location: Mage's Association Headquarters, London, England

When Lord El-Melloi II looked at the brand new Command Seals upon his hand, he couldn't help but bubble up with excitement. In his heart of hearts, he felt like Waver Velvet once again. He smiled. "It's starting again. I wonder if you'll recognize me, Iskandar." Pushing back his desk, he revealed the summoning circle inlaid into silver etchings on the stone floor. From his pocket, he withdrew his chosen relic, a tarnished silver buckle, frail from age. He began to speak the chant to summon his Servant, the circle glowing red, then white. Mist curled on the floor, and his heart rose in his throat. My king, he thought. It will be awesome to see you again.

There was a flash of light as the Servant fully materialized, shrouded by mist. The skin began to tingle on the back of Waver's neck. Something was wrong. His curiosity was settled in short order by a great gust of wind from the circle, blowing away the mist that shrouded his Servant's body. Standing there was a woman of outstanding, if feral, beauty. She had long, unkempt indigo tresses that almost touched the ground while two chin length bangs framing her face. The said face was sharp and angular much like that of a warrior, hard and sharp all over. She had deep purple eyes. The strangest feature were her sharp teeth, grinding in her mouth behind supple lips. Waver also noted a simple golden ring adorning her finger and the heavy silver plate armor that covered the entirety of her body, arching backwards into wing-like spikes on her shoulders and ankles. She was a spectacle, beautiful like how a wolf is beautiful, wild, angry, but elegant.

Waver stomped his foot and screamed. "You-!" he pointed at the Servant. "You're not Iskandar!" He threw the relic at her in a fit of rage, which she deftly deflected with an armored hand. Her breath began to become heavier, her chest rising and falling. She was trying to restrain herself, noticed Waver. Had he continued with his rage, she would have attacked him. That, plus the fact that no obvious weapon was in her hand, and she had no signs of magic artifacts or a mount of any kind, indicated only one thing.

"Then," he said, slowly coming to the realization, "You must be Berserker." He slapped his head. "Stupid, stupid. She's not even the right class. I screwed up. I took that museum's word that the relic was from Macedonia." He looked her up and down. "Where the hell is she from?"

Berserker nodded aggressively, baring her pearly-white fangs. She dropped to one knee, slamming both fists into the floor. Her armoured hands cracked the stone like glass.

Waver sighed. "Well, in that case, I've got another thing to ask the Grail, I guess. You're still a Heroic Spirit, so you'll do. But don't think I'm going to like you or treat you as a friend. There's only one Heroic Spirit I could ever be friends with."

Berserker nodded again, and Waver realized that she honestly didn't care how he treated her. She was like a wild animal, in all the senses of the word. As long as she was fed (in this case with Waver's mana) she would be content. The thought put him on edge.

"Berserker," he said. "I want you to stay in spirit form until we arrive in Fuyuki. Until all the Masters have gathered there, I'm not in any danger and I won't have to fight." Berserker vanished in a silver cloud of light. Waver flopped to the floor, holding his head in his hands.

"I screwed up," he told himself. "How can I face Iskandar if I make his dream a reality without his help?" He clenched his fists. "But it's too late to turn back now." He looked at the Command Seals on his hand. They were proof enough of that.

My minds made up, he thought. I'm coming for you, Iskandar. Together, we'll conquer the whole world, and when we're done, we'll rest on the shores of Oceanus. I promise you that much.

 **A/N: I hope you enjoy who do you think will win and who will get together and don't forget to leave a review if you feel so inclined**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: We don't own fate stay or any type moon properties they belong exclusively to type moon and Kinoko Nasu. now without further ado chapter begin

 _Fate/Terminus_

 _Part 2_

 _Location: African Airlines Flight 103, Fuyuki City Airspace, Japan_

Andrei sat on the top of the plane, the wind slashing his face with cold. The moonlit sky above cast his pale features in an even paler light. A thin layer of softly glowing red prana glimmered around his legs and lower body, firmly anchoring him to the plane. He wore the same clothes he had as before in Africa. He had no need for anything else.

Assassin stalked along the length of the aircraft like a predator, the force of the wind apparently having no effect on his movement whatsoever. His silky red scarf whipped in the wind. "An odd choice of seating for our journey to Fuyuki, Master."

The said Master simply grunted while drinking from a sterling silver flask, uncaring of his current predicament. Assassin nodded. "Although, I suppose given your specific circumstances, you would not be uncomfortable here."

Andrei once again grunted in response. He was not what you would call a talker or a people person. When he finally did speak, it was in such a quiet tone that he could barely be heard over the wind. "Airplanes aren't good for me," he admitted. "Too many people. Too many temptations."

With that Assassin shrugged and exploded into a shower of blue particles.

In the actual cabin of the plane, Prince Ishmael Ibori III was not happy. Despite his first class accommodations, he felt that his father was being totally unreasonable and that he should have been treated better. "First class," he scoffed, gesturing at his surroundings. The luscious cabin was lined with rare furs and seasoned artifacts from his homeland, decorated to the taste of a true African king. "Is this what they call first class nowadays? How disappointing."

Lancer was not sympathetic. "You realize to a normal passenger, these conditions would essentially cost them the fruits of their entire life's work? But no, I can see how hard this is for you. What a hard life it is." His voice had taken on a sarcastic tone.

Ibori scowled and ran a finger over a Command Seal. Lancer bowed his head. "Forgive me, Master. I didn't intend to speak out of line."

"Good," said Ibori. "Don't let it happen again. Jem, please bring us some tea, if you would?"

The butler emerged into the cabin, carrying a china tray with two teacups on it. Lancer regarded the drink with a raised eyebrow and a curious expression. "What is this drink?"

"Tea," said Ibori, taking a long sip. He smiled. "Excellent as always, Jem. That will be all."

Lancer took a sip next. "A strange flavor. I'm not sure if it is to my liking. You live in a curious era, indeed, that the following of this beverage has partaken that of such spirits as holy wine."

Ibori smiled. "I'm sure the staff would be willing to acquire some wine for you if you were to ask for it."

Lancer shook his hand. "It is of no importance. I have tasted the divine wine that is the nectar of Olympus. As such, any earthly beverage would pale in comparison, I'm afraid."

Ibori grinned. "You talk as if you're some sort of connoisseur of it. But from what I gathered, you weren't on Olympus for very long at all."

Lancer grimaced. "No, perhaps I wasn't."

The voice on the intercom began to speak now, his voice crackling with static due to the clouds around. " _We are now beginning our descent on Fuyuki City. Would all passengers please buckle their seatbelts and prepare for landing. Thank you for flying with Grand Africa Airlines."_

Lancer frowned, nervously tapping the armor on his knee. "It might be preferable for me to remain in spirit form for this part of the journey, Master. We have no idea if the Masters already in Fuyuki possess familiars that can detect my presence at this range. If they were to detect the presence of a Heroic Spirit aboard this aircraft, I would not doubt that some would resort to taking down the entire plane."

"Very well, Lancer. You are dismissed," the prince said with a flick of his wrist. Lancer disappeared in a column of silver sparks. Ibori could feel the plane began its descent. Within a few minutes, the plane had landed on the airstrip, coming to a jerking halt. Ibori unclipped his seatbelt and made his way to the nearest exit, stopping only to remove a small leather pouch from the seat pocket beside the armrests of his chair. With that, he headed to the exit of the airplane.

Andrei watched him leave, walking down the gangplank to the tarmac below. A black car was slowly approaching the plane. It stopped within a few meters, and a force of about five burly, African men got out of the plane. They all wore suits and carried in their meaty fists 9mm handguns. Andrei grinned. "Assassin. Eliminate his security, remaining in stealth using Hidden Dark. If we can kill his forces now before he gets to safety, he will be much easier to pursue and kill." He snapped his fingers. "Go."

As Ibori took his first step to the car, each of the five guards suddenly stopped in their tracks, a heavy spray of blood opening up on their throats. Ibori's eyes narrowed, and he instinctively threw something sparkly and blue in the direction of the car. They were crystals, which when in range exploded into bursts of lightning. One of these fingers of white light caught Assassin as he padded away, briefly illuminating his invisible form in glowing light. Ibori threw another handful of crystals, red this time, that burst into brilliant flame. Assassin dodged these, swinging his sword through the air. A curved blade of wind streaked towards Ibori, who removed an emerald green crystal from his pocket that expanded into a dome-like shield.

Meanwhile, a spear shot out from behind Ibori, its intent to hit the Assassin-class Servant. It missed its target, but when it struck the ground, a foul cloud of lead-colored mist burst forth, which Assassin took care to dodge. Lancer stepped out of the shadows beneath the wing of the plane. With a snap of his wrist, the spear returned to his hand, streaking through the air in a deadly swirling blade of dark metal.

"Really? How foolish of you! An assassin that attacks my Master right out in the open? I suppose it is my task to kill you then." he smirked snidely

Andrei swore under his breath as he made his way closer, sliding down the surface of the plane towards Ibori. _He's a practitioner of mineral magic, then. He could imbue any number of magical effects on that. Plus, Lancer has made his appearance. Everything logical is telling me to retreat, but… I've worked too hard to get close enough to kill Ibori. If I squander the chance now, I'll never get another._

With that he descended from the roof, drawing an adamantium knife from his cloak. It was the only materialthat was proven to be able to damage these corporeal beings effectively. He landed on Lancer's back, taking the Servant to his knees with the momentum he had gained and at the moment of impact he also thrust his knife into lancers spine- right at the base of his neck. Blood spurted out of the wound and Lancer screamed as Andrei withdrew his weapon as quickly as he had put it in his target. Then, not a moment later, three crimson crystals appeared in his vision with that he leapt into the air, the explosions' radius missing him by a hair.

This proved to be a mistake, as the moment Ibori had turned to save his Servant, Assassin was in his guard, sword prepared to strike a killing blow. The prince had no perception of the danger he was truly in, as Assassin was shrouded by his ability, Hidden Dark. This was it, thought Andrei. Ibori was going to die. However, Assassin seemed to stumble, but he swung never the less- giving Ibori a deep wound from his left shoulder to right hip. Ibori dropped to the ground, spluttering for breath, but very much alive.

Andrei's eyes widened. "That blow should have killed him killed him," he muttered under his breath. "Assassin wouldn't miss…" He noticed, however, that Assassin's escape was sluggish, and that his Servant's body seemed to tremble. His forehead furrowed.

"So that's it. Good play, Ibori, poisoning my Servant like that." Now he spoke to Assassin. "We'll retreat for now. They can't get anywhere far with those injuries." he commanded, slowly slinking back away from Lancer and Ibori. With that the two, Master and Servant both, faded into the blackness of the night, leaving Lancer and Ibori standing there, wounded and stunned.

* * *

 _Location: British Airways Flight 1793, Fuyuki City Airspace, Japan_

Catherine pulled out her phone as the plane began to descend, the number of bars slowly rising. Archer, who had been bored for the majority of the nine-hour flight, found his eyes wandering to the small touch-screen devices Catherine held in her hand. She tapped the button for an app in the lower right corner, and what looked like a video feed came up. She gasped.

"Jesus, Archer," she said, "We're late. We haven't even gotten to Fuyuki and the first battle's already happened!" She thrust the video in his face, of a small, private plane sitting on the tarmac, two men walking down its gangplank to the ground. One was short, African, wearing a loose-fitting suit, while the other was a silver-haired Mediterranean man wearing an olive green military uniform. Within moments, the pair were engaged in combat, with what seemed to be empty air. After a while, a spray of blood erupted from the back of the silver-haired man's neck and another from the African's chest. The two slumped, before the man in the nearby black car rushed to their side and ferried them away from the airport.

Archer rubbed his chin. "So it would seem. Who are they?"

Catherine scrolled back through the video. "The African man is named Ishmael Ibori. He's a prince from some small, dictatorial West African nation. He's also a Master. That guy next to him is his Servant, Lancer. They did a lot of public displays of power back in his country, which I was able to catch with some familiars like I did with this battle."

Archer nodded. "And I assume because their assailants are invisible to even the magical eye, that they would be Assassin and his Master."

Catherine frowned. "Yeah, they are. My familiars are pretty potent. Thanks to the terms of their summoning, I can send them anywhere within the range of a cell tower. They're like digital familiars, I guess you could say. But the fact that they can't see Assassin or his Master… that kinda scares me."

Archer harrumphed. "We have no need to fear from Assassin and his Master, Catherine. You have my word."

Catherine raised an eyebrow and gave him a quizzical look. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"It's simple." said Archer, folding his arms. "Assassin and his Master attacked Ibori and Lancer out in the open, in the immediate presence of Ibori's heavy security, and they were still unable to defeat them, largely thanks to the efforts of Lancer. I consider _myself_ to be at least as strong- if not stronger than Lancer, so if Lancer is able to fend them off without incurring his own or his Master's death, then we have no reason to worry. Additionally, have you noticed? About Lancer's Noble Phantasm, I mean?"

She played back the video again, her eyes scanning the screen for every little detail. "Yeah, actually. The spear, right? He can telekinetically return it to his hand when he throws it, and probably if he's disarmed as well."

"Anything else?"

"Yes," she said. "That grey mist it makes, it seems to have been what turned the tide in the battle. I'm guessing it has some kind of debuff that forced Assassin to retreat instead of killing them."

Archer looked confused. "Debuff?"

Catherine smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I forgot you don't know that sort of stuff. A debuff is something from a videogame, a harmful effect like poison or blindness which makes it more difficult to play. I'm guessing, in this case, that grey cloud probably has some kind of poison or paralysis magic worked into it."

Archer smiled. "That is indeed a good analogy. Yes, I suppose Lancer's Noble Phantasm does contain some sort of 'debuff' as you call it." He tilted his head back, as if deep in thought. "Another thing. Even though it was a failure, I can't help but admire Assassin's Master's strategy."

"What strategy?" asked Catherine. "It was just a sneak attack that didn't work."

"In that respect, yes, it was a failure." said Archer, raising his index finger like a teacher about to teach a lesson. "But we can assume you are not the only Master who had eyes on the airport, correct? As many Masters are from abroad, this is a good place to watch for the arrival of Masters and Servants. The Assassin team attacked in such a way that a great deal was revealed about Lancer's Noble Phantasm and indeed Ibori's own Mystic Code."

"Right," said Catherine, understanding beginning to dawn on her features. Her hazel eyes were wide. "He uses mineral magic, imbuing different magical effects to different crystals that he throws and breaks to achieve a desired effect. So what you're saying is, it's possible that the Master's strategy in all this was by revealing some of his own strengths, he revealed more of Ibori's and Lancer's?"

"Correct," said Archer. "I think it may be that Assassin's Master did this in an attempt to educate the other five masters about the Lancer team, in the hopes that one of them would feel emboldened enough by this information to attack Ibori for him. That certainly is a plausible strategy."

Archer continued. "After all, once a Noble Phantasm has been shown, it is easy to identify the hero and therefore come up with a feasible strategy to defeat them, as well as allowing us to identify any other Noble Phantasms they may have." Catherine looked at Archer he had a smirk plastered all over his face.

"Do you know who he is, Archer?" she asked cautiously. She was still unsure of Archer. On the surface, he seemed to be plainly obedient, but she could sense underneath an independent streak. That would prove difficult if he were to take off and do things his own way without consulting her first. The Archer class was notable for being far more independent than other classes, due to the fact that they could survive without an active supply of prana, but she had assumed that with a strict enough summoning rule she would be able to keep Archer in line.

"I may have an idea, but further observation will be needed." There was then a crackling sound from the intercom, and the captain's voice blasted through the cabin.

" _We will now be descending in Fuyuki City, Japan. The weather is a cool 22_ ⁰C. _Enjoy your day and we thank you for flying British Airways._ "

* * *

 _Fuyuki City Airport, Fuyuki City, Japan_

"Well, this trip has been thoroughly uninteresting," Lord El-Melloi II said to his Servant. Berserker simply nodded and grunted her reply. _What a great conversationalist,_ El-Melloi thought sarcastically. With that he took the first step out of the airplane. It had been a long time since he had been in Fuyuki City, but it seemed not much had changed. This airport, the one he had arrived at more than twenty years ago, was much the same, with only a few, simple updates and modernizations of security.

As he walked through the gate into the airport, El-Melloi found that Berserker had gone into spirit form. He had subconsciously desired her to, but the fact that she had done so without an explicit command unnerved him slightly. She was more in-tune to his feelings than was typical of the raving, feral Berserker class.

Getting through Japanese Customs was a piece of cake. Not only were all of his credentials and passports legitimate, but the Mage's Association kept a close eye on this airport since its construction. The idea was that when the Masters arrived in Fuyuki for the Grail Wars, the Mage's Association could expedite their process through security and ensure the War got underway in a timely manner.

 _But,_ thought El-Melloi, as a security man with a scanner passed him through another checkpoint, _it seems as though for some of us, the war begins the instant we step off the plane._ His own familiars had perused the site where the first battle of the war had taken place. His familiars were extensions of the Mystic Code he had inherited from his predecessor Kayneth El-Melloi, Volumen Hydrargum. By sending tiny, probing drops of sentient mercury to examine the airport, he had concluded the presence of magical residue of Lancer and Assassin, as well as their masters. In particular, the magic residue of Assassin's master was troubling. His familiars had shied away from it, with an implicit understanding that it was harmful, not fully human.

"I'll have to keep an eye on that one," he thought aloud, emerging from the depths of customs into the airport proper. Waving down a taxi, he got in the cab with all of his belongings and rode into the city. There was somewhere he needed to go.

The house was a lot shabbier and older than he remembered, clearly abandoned. The couple that had onced lived here had believed him to be their grandson, visiting from abroad. They were most likely deceased now, a thought that caused a pang of guilt in his heart. Though he wasn't actually their grandson, and had in fact hypnotized them into believing that he was, he still felt bad that their home had gotten in such a bad shape. He would have to fix that.

The cabby frowned and looked over the seat at him. "You sure this is the place? Doesn't look like anyone lives here anymore."

"Yeah," said Lord El-Melloi II, nodding and paying the driver. He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. "This'll be fine." The driver screeched away, no doubt in a hurry to get to his break. Lord El-Melloi waited until he was gone, checked the street to make sure there were no pedestrians, then cast his hands into the air. A shimmering sphere of silver light rippled into existence, then shot into the air until it hung like another moon in the early morning sky. The sphere expanded into a dome that held the whole house within its expanse, then vanished.

"I'm getting good at that," he said to himself, entering the house. Now that the Bounded Field had been set up, he could get started. "Berserker," he muttered quietly. In a burst of silver sparks, the Servant appeared beside him. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of the abandoned house.

"You understand, right?" said Lord El-Melloi II, gesturing to the house. "It's not in good shape. With your strength and energy, you should be all set to clean up while I set up my equipment. Can you do that?"

Berserker nodded and set to work cleaning, scooping up piles of rubble and dirt into her hands. El-Melloi went into the kitchen, removing his alchemy equipment from his bag. Several racks with test-tubes on them were put into place, Bunsen burners hooked into the decrepit but still functional fuel line, and good old-fashioned transmutation runes were carved into the wood. Once he had finished, Lord El-Melloi II stepped back from his handiwork. All was in place to begin waging his war.

His victory would be absolute. It had to be.

* * *

 _Location: Edelfelt Household, Fuyuki City, Japan_

Kanima flew backwards through the air, thanks to a blow from Saber. This was becoming a regular occurrence. While Simon went through augmentation training using the family Mystic Code, Kanima was doing his own training with Saber. And she did not hold back.

"Get up," she barked, hefting her sword. Despite it being a practice session, Saber was still using her gleaming broadsword. Just the look of it made Kanima fear for his life. "Your form is atrocious," she continued. "Get up and let's try again."

Kanima got to his feet shakily, breathing heavily. Two homemade seals drawn onto his wrists glowed bright blue. From these two seals formed two short blades, made purely of glowing blue prana. Kanima augmented the strength of his legs with a mint-green glow and shot forward, closing the distance between him and Saber almost instantaneously. His right hand came around in a wide arc at the height of Saber's stomach, but Saber angled her body to the left, dodging the blow within a hair.

Before Kanima could make another move, Saber had slashed the hilt of her blade down onto Kanima's with superhuman speed, sending him to the floor before he was able to jump backwards a few steps and out of range. But that wasn't nearly enough time, as Saber had closed the gap immediately, her sword dancing through the air in a veritable wall of silver slashes that Kanima had to dodge and weave around. _She's more serious this time,_ he thought, as the blade missed his nose by an inch. _Saber is actually trying to kill me now._

"Remember what I said, Kanima," she said sternly, swiping in a vicious uppercut. "You cannot block what you cannot perceive. Wait for an opening and use that opportunity to counter." Kanima grinned.

 _Sure thing, Saber._ He saw an opening just a few moments later, as she made a move forward with a high-speed, lunging stab. Kamina spun on a dime, bringing both his prana blades down on Saber's blade while enforcing his arms. There was resistance, but Kanima's magically empowered strength won out, forcing Saber's sword into the ground.

"Got you!" he cried triumphantly. Saber merely smirked. Kanima's elation at his short-lived victory was quickly lost as a gauntlet-covered fist struck him in the face, sending him into the wall of the dojo once more.

Saber recovered her sword and sheathed it. "You saw the opening I left you, and you did act on it, which is good. However, just because you have acted on it doesn't mean you can ignore everything else going on around you. Often, if an enemy loses their sword, they will attack with their fists. Now we will do that again," Saber said sternly, lecturing the poor boy.

At this point, Simon walked into the dojo, wearing a tank-top and shorts, a towel slung around his neck. He, like his brother, was dripping with sweat. "Nice going, Kanima," he said, helping Kanima to his feet. He turned to Saber. "I'm sure you could go all day, but Kanima looks pretty beat. I think we should call it quits for now. We need to save up Kanima's mana for our patrol tonight, right?"

Saber nodded. "Indeed. We cannot forget that the Holy Grail War has already begun. We must keep our guard up."

Kanima scoffed. "I don't see why I can't go on these patrols! I'm getting better, and you can't make prana blades like I can, Simon."

"Yeah, you can," said Simon snidely. "But I've seen you make them, little bro. They take at least seven seconds to fully materialize. If we get caught up in a sneak attack like what happened at the airport yesterday night, you'd be dead. It won't be Saber up against you in that case. An enemy Servant isn't gonna give you time to arm yourself."

Kanima folded his arms. "I don't need my prana blades to fight. Just who the hell do you think I am?"

Simon grabbed him by the top of his head, ruffling his light-blue hair. He smiled widely. "You're my little bro who still has a lot to learn. Anyway, you'd better rest. That Magic Crest Dad gave you won't assimilate well if you stress it so much with all this magic use. Go take a nap before dinner."

Kanima went to his room, while Simon went back into the kitchen and Saber remained in the dojo, sitting cross-legged and doing absolutely nothing. Once he was sitting on his bed, he sent out a call with mana. "Saber," he whispered quietly.

The Servant materialized in his room. "Yes, Kanima?"

"Once Kanima starts making dinner, you and I are going to sneak out and do that patrol ourselves." He grinned. "It'll be like a secret mission. No need to worry."

"You are not ready to engage in the War," she protested crossly. "Have our training sessions taught you nothing?"

"Yeah, they have," he said smugly. "Wait for an opening and use that opportunity, right? Well, this is an opening. I'm going to make use of it and help out. It doesn't sit easy with me, letting you and Simon do all the work when I'm technically the Master from this family. You're going to come with me, right?"

Saber folded her arms. "If you insist on this stupidity, then I will not. I understand your feelings but disagree entirely. If I must, I will keep you here." Her hand went to her sword, and a panicked Kanima flung his fingers to his Command Seals, which began to glow.

"Come with me, Saber!" he said. One of the Command Seals fizzled out, and Saber froze. Her expression was angry, but she did nothing, said nothing. Kanima felt bad for using a Command Seal like that, but, as he told himself, it was a good test to see if they worked. As he went to the door, Saber followed him. The pair snuck down the stairs stealthily, thanks to a thin layer of augmentation magic around Kanima's entire body to control his movements perfectly. Within moments, they were out on the street, their faces illuminated by the orange glow of the setting sun.

Free at last, Kanima began walking into the town, Saber following closely behind him. Somewhere between his bedroom and the door, she had magically changed her clothes to a black tank-top and jean shorts with a pair of sneakers, to look less conspicuous. Kanima thumped her shoulder. "Come on, Saber. Simon's no fun, but I know the best parts of this city! We'll have a good time. There's a good clothes store nearby, you wanna go there?"

Saber's eyes widened, and for the first time she didn't look like a girl dressed as a knight, but like an ordinary girl. "Clothes? Indeed. I would enjoy looking at clothing."

The two had made their way a good distance from the house, the suburbs getting thicker and thicker in their metamorphosis into the city proper. Houses began to be replaced with stores, which they went in periodically. At Saber's request, Kanima bought her a few new outfits, which made her blush and glow with happiness. The anger she seemed to have earlier at him taking her out without permission was gone now.

They shopped until the sun went down, when Kanima realized he should head back for dinner. As they were walking back, the night sky glowing with the light of the moon, Saber froze. "Get back," she said gruffly, pushing him backwards down the sidewalk. And not a moment too soon, for a pair of what looked like gleaming gold ropes shot from the sky, smashing into the pavement and shattering it like glass. Saber's clothing shifted back into armor, and Kanima dropped his shopping bags, trying to conjure his prana blades as quick as he could.

Floating above and in front of them was a gigantic boat made of a gleaming gold metal, long and slender with a stern and bow that were carved into sharp, curved points reaching towards the sky. Three square sails hung from masts made of deep ebony wood, painted red and emblazoned with the image of the sun. Oars beat through the air in perfect rhythm, guided by vague, ghostly glowing forms that acted as oarsmen. Standing firmly on its deck was a bold, brawny man with coppery-brown skin and sleek black hair, his blood-red cloak flowing in the night wind.

"So my Master was right about you," the man mused, his voice deep and rumbling. "She detected the pair of you with her familiars. It's quite unusual when the signatures of a mage and a Heroic Spirit appear out of thin air, so she sent me to investigate. I wasn't certain, but since my attack I'm confident that you are an enemy Master and Servant."

Saber hefted her sword. "Why don't you come down and fight, like a real man should?"

The Servant began to burst in booming laughter, basically doubling over. "You're one to talk, madame! I assume you are Saber, correct? It is such a comedic state of affairs, when females take up the sword! And so common too! What a hilarious world we live in!"

Saber gritted her teeth. "You will pay for those insults with your life. I assume, because you hide behind the strength of your mount, that you are Rider."

Rider laughed loudly in response. "Indeed, I am. But I am not hiding behind the strength of my mount. I choose to attack from my Solar Barque because, were I to attack with my full strength, this fight would be incredibly boring for me. And there is no fun in an easy battle."

Saber turned to Kanima. "Kanima, run home and retrieve Simon. I'll hold off Rider until he arrives."

"No way," said Kanima, swiping his prana blades through the air. "I'm gonna fight too. Just who the hell do you think I am?"

"It is really obnoxious when you continually say that," muttered Saber, before launching herself into the air, blade flashing. Despite her small stature, Saber was easily able to jump to the height of the floating barque. Rider merely grinned and swiped his hand through the air. Two more ropes lashed out from the rigging, whipping Saber across the face and stomach and sending her flying away. Kanima enhanced the strength of his legs and leaped with all of his might, hurling both prana blades at Rider in a deadly blue arc. Rider smacked one out of the air with his bare hand, deflecting the other with one of the bracers on his wrist. The blade skittered off and vanished, but not before slicing a thin cut across his bicep. He grinned.

"So the Master is a fighter as well! Excellent!" he bellowed. "In my day mages were nothing but sniveling cowards, hiding behind the protection of their temples. There were none like you, Saber's Master. I am impressed!"

Kanima grinned and tried to grab for the edge of the boat, but Rider firmly planted his bare foot on the Master's face, sending Kanima flying back down to earth in a daze. Saber appeared out of the night, catching Kanima in her free hand and touching gently to the ground.

"As long as he is up in the sky, we are at a severe disadvantage," muttered Saber.

"Yeah, no kidding," said Kanima. Suddenly, it came to him. "I've got an idea, but I'll need you to cover for me while I prep for it. Can you do that?"

Saber nodded. "I will do my best." She launched into the air once again, slashing through the advance of Rider's rigging. Rider extended his hand, and with a flash of gold light summoned a weapon. It was shaped a little like the crook of a shepherd, but much larger and made of gold, wrapped tightly with red, blue, and black ribbons. Both ends were adorned with glittering rubies. He hooked his weapon around Saber's blade and pulled, bringing her back towards him in a flash. Pulling back his other fist, he swung forward and planted a devastating punch right into her stomach with a terrific roar of might. Saliva mixed with Saber's blood, flying out of her mouth due to the horrific damage of Rider's blow. She fell to the ground in a huff but managed to stay on her feet. Kanima, who was preoccupied, blue prana gleaming around his seals, felt guilty at being unable to help.

His circuits burned as he called forth as much prana as he could. The seals went from their usual blue glow to a sickly red. Kanima could feel himself reaching the seals' very capacity. When he could muster no more prana, he slammed his closed fists together. When he pulled his hands apart, a sort of gleaming shaft of light had appeared between him. However, he was not going to be left alone in his endeavor.

Small beams of light shot at him from Rider's barque. Fortunately, Saber was still faster. She dashed in front of him, reflecting the beams deftly with the reflective surface of her blade. While this was going on, Kanima had managed to stabilize the prana construct in his hands. He gripped it in the middle of the shaft with his right hand and pulled it back, spear in hand. Meanwhile his left hand was placed in front of him, his thumb out- to be used as not only an aim but also a counter balance. Pivoting he mentally screamed "Saber! Move now!". Not a moment later, he had reached the perfect point, his right hand shooting forward like the crack of a whip.

The spear shot through the air, the last of Kanima's power used up to reinforce his arm in a gauntlet of minty green. It struck the barge with a thunderous crack and pierced right through it, the boat exploding into a fine golden mist of prana. Its occupant landed heavily on the street pavement, cracking the ground with the sheer force. Rider- needless to say- looked furious. The crook in his hand flashed gold, and disappeared, to be replaced by a three-pronged flail, the rod done in gold with long, black ropes adorned with vicious silver spikes. Golden light shimmered around the flails. He ground his foot into the ground behind him, preparing to charge.

"That was my favorite barge. It took me an _hour_ to craft that, using such a limited supply of prana. However, do not think that the loss of my barque will afford you victory in this battle." he said confidently. With that Rider lunged forward, flail drawn back and ready to strike. Saber also charged. A moment before they met a rain of arrow bolts from the sky struck the ground. Both leapt back, however neither escaped unscathed. Saber had an arrow embedded in her arm, while Rider had an arrow straight through his thigh. If Rider wasn't angry before, with an arrow piercing his leg and making him bleed, he was in a full-on rage. He swung his flail in the direction of the arrows. A mighty wave of force flying forth from it decimating the surrounding area, the facades of several buildings blown to splinters and shards. However, this proved to be a huge mistake. A bulky, blond man emerged from the ruins between two nearby suburban houses, a crossbow in hand. _Archer,_ thought Saber. Archer began to chant-

"Arrow that pierces all, fly straight and true, never missing. May my target be struck down. _Streik Gessler_." He loaded a bolt into his crossbow, one that glowed with green flame. He wound back, and pulled the trigger with a thunderous crash.

With that there was a bright green streak that shot through the air, causing the air to ripple with its sheer power. Not a second later, it struck. Saber leapt in front of Kanima bringing her sword in a wide arc. The air glowed and some sort of whirlwind was formed, protecting them from the brunt of the bolt's power. Rider was not as lucky, as Archer's bolt struck him full force. He at least had enough wits about him to cross his flail and crook in front of him. They glowed an ethereal gold before an explosion of green flame consumed him with a roar like the sound at the gates of hell. A moment later a slightly charred and battered Rider emerged from the smoking crater. Smoke arose from his flesh and tiny trickles of blood dripped from his burns.

"It seems as if the gods no longer favor their king in this battle. I must depart." said Rider matter-of-factly. "Saber, Archer, consider yourself lucky that you have forced me, a noble conqueror, to retreat." With that he faded into a shower of golden sparks and disappeared.

However, it seemed that the battle was not finished yet, as several more of Archer's bolts rained down in Saber and Kanima's direction. Saber managed to deflect the hail of bolts with a deft series of sword swipes, but her movements were slowing down and her breathing was getting heavier. The bolt in her arm was spilling her blood in dribbles on the pavement.

Kanima could tell that Saber was in no condition to fight Archer. That was as plain as day. As much as he hated the thought of doing so, he had to order a retreat. He mentally spoke to Saber, gritting his teeth. "We have to go, Saber. We're in no shape to keep on fighting. There's no point if we die to this son of a bitch." Saber nodded, sweat dripping from her brow, before Kanima wrapped his arm around her shoulder to stabilize her and and they fled. Archer removed his bolt from the crossbow and pocketed it. That would be enough for tonight. "I forgot how draining Streik can be," he muttered to himself, feeling the burn of mana depletion in his chest. With that he faded into a blue mist.

* * *

 _Location: Edelfelt Household, Fuyuki City, Japan_

Simon's worries kicked into high gear when Kanima didn't come down for dinner. Ordinarily, his younger brother was first to the dinner table. But dinner had been finished for seven minutes and still no Kanima. Simon went up to Kanima's room, opening the door. When he found an empty room, he swore angrily and punched the wall. "That little bastard," he hissed. "How the hell am I meant to protect him if he keeps wandering off by himself?" Rage filled his tone.

All of a sudden, there was the sound of the front door being slammed open downstairs. Simon lept into action- rushing down the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. He came to the door moments later to see Saber draped over Kanima's back, drenched in cold sweat and in full armor. Kanima held a bloody arrow in his hand and his left sleeve was missing, which he had used it to tie Saber's arm where she was bleeding. The fabric had turned black from all the blood.

"What the hell happened?" asked Simon anxiously as Kanima bustled into the kitchen, laying Saber on the floor. Her eyes fluttered and she seemed to be in a lot of pain, but so far her breathing was steady. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," panted Kanima, rolling Saber onto her back. "We got attacked by an enemy Servant- Rider. I destroyed his boat and we thought we were gonna win, but then all of a sudden, Archer showed up and shot both Rider and Saber. He blew up Rider, and we used that time to escape. I don't know how to do healing magic, bro. She looks like she's hurting a lot." Kanima looked up to Simon, his brown eyes wide and pleading. Simon dropped to his knees, pressing his fingertips into the wound. Saber gasped with pain, her eyes flicking wide open. White light glowed along Simon's hands, and slowly the wound began to close.

"Thank you, bro," said Kanima. A tear squeezed out of the corner of his left eye, but he wiped it away angrily. "I was kinda scared, bro. I mean, I've gotten into fights before, but they were _so_ powerful. I couldn't even get close to Rider. I had to make do with throwing a prana spear at him."

Simon clapped his little brother on the back. "You said you destroyed his boat, right? That's not so bad for your first time." He paused, deep in thought. "Wait, you said he had a boat?"

Kanima nodded. "He called it a barque. It was big and gold, with oars and three sails, and it could fly. Why?"

"It's just, a barque was a ceremonial boat used in Ancient Egypt." Simon said. "The pharaoh would ride in it throughout the capital on parade, carried by a bunch of slaves. I think Rider might be some kind of Egyptian king!" He hugged his little brother with excitement. "You did fantastic, little bro!"

"I did?" asked Kanima, confused as to the sudden display of affection.

"Yeah you did!" Simon let his brother go, standing up. Kanima did too. "If we can determine Rider's identity, then we can have a good idea of what abilities he has. What other weapons or powers did you notice?"

"Well, he had this thing that looked like a gigantic, golden shepherd's crook, all wrapped up with different colored ribbons. He also had this great big black whip, with three different strings, and they were all covered in these nasty-looking silver spikes." Kanima frowned. "That's all I can remember."

"That's alright." said Simon. "I'm sorry for doubting you, little bro. I think keeping you cooped up in the house isn't going to do any good if you keep up with stunts like this. But you have to promise me that you'll only go out of the house when both me and Saber are with you, understand? If you agree, I won't tell Dad what happened when he gets home from the store."

Kanima shook his hand. "You've got a deal." He looked to Saber. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to go anywhere for a while, then."

"Nah," said Simon, swiping his hand through the air dismissively. "She looks bad now, but in a few hours my healing magic will start working for real and she'll be as good as new. Looks like I picked out a good Servant for you, huh?"

"Yeah," said Kanima, his gaze resting on Saber's sleeping face, fevered and blank. "She's definitely something."

* * *

A/N: thanks for reading don't forget to review and tell us what you liked and we will see you next chapter


	3. Chapter 3

Fate/Terminus part 3

Part 3

Disclaimer: We don't own fate stay or any type moon properties they belong exclusively to type moon and Kinoko Nasu. now without further ado chapter begin

 _Location: Einzbern Headquarters, Fuyuki City, Japan_

"What happened to you?" Ivysviel demanded of her Servant. She sat on the futon in the living room of a small town house that the Einzberns had rented for the purpose of this Holy Grail War. Its decorations were tacky and gaudy, easily from the past century, but it fit its purpose as a safe house perfectly. Viewing it from the outside, nothing would distinguish it from the many other city houses in the neighborhood. That, plus a Bounded Field set up around the house and meager garden offered it a lot of protection.

Rider stood before her, all but burnt to a crisp. In many places, his coppery skin was burnt scaly black, in other places oozing red. His long hair still smoked slightly, and his cape had essentially burnt away.

"I initiated a battle with Saber and her Master, as per your orders to eliminate other Servants," reported Rider, hanging his head. "I believed them to be dealt with, but it was a surprise attack from Archer that caught me with my guard down. My barque was destroyed, and this damage to my body is what I assume to be Archer's Noble Phantasm, which he titled _Streik Gessler._ I am very sorry for this loss, Miss Ivysviel."

Justinian, who stood behind the futon with folded arms and a aggravated expression, spoke now. "When will your Noble Phantasm be repaired?"

Rider bowed. "The Spirit Slaves conjured for its use are working on repairing it, Master Justinian. Naturally, the vessel of a king will be much more difficult than a single blow from prana weaponry. As for my crook and flail, I lost those in the defense to Archer's Noble Phantasm. It was a crossbow bolt, alight with green flame, which I suspect has the capability to pierce through any defense."

"That information will be helpful," said Justinian. "I shall add it to our file on Archer." With that, he padded out of the room, silkily, like a cat.

Rider nodded, turning to his Master. "If I may partake of a bit of your mana, Ivysviel," he said softly. "My current appearance is less than desirable to me. I wish to heal my wounds and repair my clothing. Will that be alright?"

Ivy nodded. "Go ahead, Rider." She smiled. "After all, we've got to have you looking and feeling your best for your next fight, right?"

"Indeed," said Rider. "And if it is Saber or Archer the next time I find myself in battle, I shall be sure to crush them quickly and thoroughly. You have my word on that." His body glowed brilliant gold, so brightly that his form was blotted out. Ivy had to cover her eyes to prevent being blinded. When the glow faded, Rider stood in his former glory, cloak hanging to his ankles, hair flowing over his shoulders, his skin once again smooth and flawless. He grinned and flexed his limbs.

"Our concern right now is Archer, I think," mused Ivy, picking up the television remote and turning it on for a bit of background noise. "Your theory that his Noble Phantasm can breach any defense is worrying. From what you said, it seemed as if Saber wasn't much of a threat to you."

Rider laughed. "The girl thinks she is a warrior, but she turned and ran when pierced with Archer's first bolt. And of course, she was unable to get close to me. I suspect Saber may very well be the weakest of all the Servants. It seemed to me that even her Master was more potent than Saber herself. It was his attack that destroyed my barque."

Ivy gasped. "Are you sure? It sounded like it was Archer that did that."

"I misspoke," admitted Rider. "Or perhaps just omitted that aspect of the battle. In any case, it is true that Saber's Master is responsible for the destruction of my barque. He conjured a massive spear made entirely of mana, which he threw and shattered my Noble Phantasm. I hadn't expected the workings of a mere mage to have such a devastating effect."

"I'll send a familiar to that part of the city to keep an eye on things, see if we can find anyone matching his description. He could be really dangerous if we leave him unchecked."

Rider nodded. "Do I have your permission to return to my duties? I tire of sitting around in this place. I wish to go forth and take to battle once again." He thumped his chest. "You have my word that this time, I shall not lose."

Ivy frowned. "It'd be better if you stayed here for a little while until your barque is repaired. As it is, you don't have any way to fight an enemy Servant right now."

He shook his head in disagreement. "I disagree, Miss Ivysviel." Both of his hands glowed brightly with the color of the sun, and his crook and flail materialized in his grasp. Ivy, who was used to such things from her bombastic, showy Servant, merely smiled.

"So you've got your weapons back." she said.

"Indeed," replied Rider. "My Spirit Slaves have taken the liberty of repairing them and strengthening them. They will suffice until my barque is repaired, Ivysviel. Do you change your answer?"

"Yes, I do," she said, grinning widely. Rider matched her grin. "Rider, feel free to continue the campaign. I expect you to easily defeat the next Servant you fight."

"With pleasure, Miss Ivysviel." Rider disappeared into a corona of yellow light.

Ivysviel turned to the television, many thoughts in her head. But at the forefront of them was a worries about Saber's Master. A Master who was potentially stronger than a Servant would be very difficult to face. If Rider had been unable to defeat him, she doubted another Servant would have much success.

 _Then again, maybe not,_ thought Ivy. _From what I can tell, it seems as if Saber's Master is an upfront fighter like Rider is. But for someone like Archer, that kind of person would be their easiest target._ Archer himself was a worrying thought, too. The only thing she could do now is pray that such a powerful Noble Phantasm as Streik Gessler, that had defeated both Saber and Rider with one shot, would have an easy drawback to exploit. _Otherwise,_ she thought, _it's very possible that Archer will win the Holy Grail War._

* * *

 _Location: Grand Hotel Fuyuki, Fuyuki City, Japan_

Andrei sat on the small bed in his hotel room, sitting ramrod straight and not moving a muscle. Part of his training as an assassin had been to be able to sit without moving for hours on end. Andrei could currently remain motionless for a little over eight hours without needing food, drink, or movement.

 _Impressive,_ Assassin said. _It has been a long time since I've seen someone with the same devotion to the art of assassination as me._

"You're distracting me," replied Andrei mentally. He still did not move.

Assassin materialized on the bed behind Andrei, sitting in the same pose, back-to-back. _On the contrary. In this state of mental clarity, I believe we have the best chance of formulating an effective plan._

"Ibori remains our primary target," said Andrei. "And after the injuries he sustained, it seems that he would have either fled to the embassy or the hospital. I would assume the hospital since it is in closer proximity to the airport."

 _Would you suggest a frontal assault, then?_ asked Assassin. _Likely, his security will be lessened at the hospital. There are only so many guards one can fit into a ward before the staff will get suspicious._

"I'm not worried about his security," scoffed Andrei. "They're mortal, and you easily dispatched the last batch. I'm worried about Ibori himself. He's still a potent competitor, and his healing process will no doubt be hurried with magic. We've only got a small window before he becomes strong enough to be a threat again. I think this night will have to be the one."

 _As you wish, Master,_ replied Assassin. He stood up, leaping gingerly off of the bed. _Shall we go?_

"In a moment." Andrei removed himself from his trance-like state and got up, heading towards the small hotel bathroom. "I'll be just a moment."

Assassin's expression was that of worry, as if sensing his master's trepidation. _I shall be waiting._

Andrei went into the bathroom, feeling weak in his knees. While his trances were good for his mental state, coming out of them always seemed to worsen his physical condition. He lunged for the sink and thrust his head over it just before a thick stream of blood burst from his mouth, staining his teeth and the sink bowl bright red. Pain throbbed in his chest near his heart, and he swore, tears in his eyes. He wiped the blood away from his mouth, watching it glisten on the tips of his fingers. How he desired to taste it, to lose himself in its delectable flavor…

He slammed his fist into the countertop. It had been too long since he had last fed, but he couldn't allow himself. His target was in sight. If he allowed himself to become distracted by his hunger, then he would bring shame to his honor as an assassin. He would resist the urges as much as possible. The only interactions he would have with people would be immediately before he killed the other six Masters. Once they were deceased, he would drink his fill again.

Andrei lathered soap into his hands and face, washing himself off. He grabbed a fresh shirt from his suitcase on the way out of the bathroom, burning the old bloody one with a lighter in the sink. Pulling on his coat, he left the hotel room, Assassin stalking closely behind him. The instant he left his room, he gestured to Assassin to activate his ability, Hidden Dark, and the two became invisible to all eyes, magical or not. Now, when their target was weakest, would be the perfect time to strike.

* * *

 _Location: Lower Side Motel, Fuyuki City, Japan_

When Archer tried to sneak back into the motel room in spirit form, Catherine sat waiting for him, catching him red-handed. There was a sigh from the air, and Archer materialized before her, looking much like the cat that ate the canary.

Catherine held her phone in her hand. "You remember I told you my familiars can manifest anywhere near a cell tower, right?" Her voice was rising in tone, rapidly reaching one of complete anger.

Archer hung his head. "Yes. I recall."

"So you know that I saw you try to fight Saber and Rider, then." Her voice shook. "We're supposed to be a team, Archer! You have to tell me before you go out and do stupid things like that! Fighting two Servants at once, what were you thinking! I know you've got a huge ego, but not even you are that strong!"

"I was clearly at an advantage, Catherine," spat back Archer. "I severely wounded Saber's sword arm and all but decimated Rider's body!"

"Yes, you did!" cried Catherine. "But in doing so, you showed off Streik Gessler to two enemy Servants and whoever the hell was watching! And to make matters worse, neither of them died! Both were able to escape!" She put her head in her hands. "Jesus, I screwed up in picking an Archer-class Servant, of all things. Archers never do what they're told. Memere told me that and I didn't listen!"

"It isn't as if I defied a direct order, Catherine," said Archer quietly. "We were inactive at the time of my attack. I merely found a situation that I believed to favorable and took the opportunity to attack. If you had explicitly ordered me not to do so, I wouldn't have."

"That's beside the point!" protested Catherine. "You made a decision by yourself without running it by me first! You're a Servant, Archer. You're not supposed to do that!"

Archer frowned. "Neither you nor I are harmed from my endeavor. I don't see why you react so negatively to it."

Catherine shook her head. "Oh really, no one's harmed?" Catherine leaned back in her chair, exhaling deeply. "You realize how much prana that Streik Gessler shot cost me, right? It isn't cheap, and it hurts like hell." She pointed at her chest, right under her sternum. "My Magic Circuits are all burnt out from that shot. I don't have much prana as the most of the other Masters, I think, so if you use it up willy-nilly like that I'm going to get hurt."

Archer knelt before her. "I apologize, Catherine. I shall remain in spirit form until your stores of mana are replenished." He stood up again.

"Like hell you will! We're not done talking!" cried Catherine, but Archer was already gone, fading into nothing. "Damn it," hissed Catherine, punching the arm of the chair.

Trying to distract herself from her worries, Catherine snagged one of the heavy books she had brought from the coffee table nearby, flipping it open and scanning the pages. Despite her reading, she couldn't banish the thoughts in her head. She had worried about this ever since she had summoned Archer, and now it seemed like her worst fears were coming true. If Archer was going to continue to do things his own way, then she'd have to put a stop to it before he ruined their chances of obtaining the Grail.

She extended her hand, her Command Seals glowing. "I, Catherine L'Montaine, hereby order Archer to waive all tactical decisions for this Holy Grail War to me. Archer cannot engage in actions relating to the Grail War unless he has my explicit permission." The Command Seals flashed bright, and one of them faded away, leaving two behind. She could feel an angry feeling ripple through the air, no doubt Archer expressing his aggravation over this new development.

"Suck it up, Archer," she said quietly. "I'm the Master here. I'm in charge. From now on, you'd better remember that."

* * *

 _Location: Edelfelt Household, Fuyuki City, Japan_

After several hours of healing, the blood had been full stemmed and the muscle fully repaired. Saber would pull through, but she would take a day or two to recover the full use of her sword arm. Aside from his concern for his Servant, Kanima wanted to get stronger, if anything. The fight he got involved in showed him how weak he was, but Saber's training was rather hellish. So when he found out that she couldn't spar with him, he was relieved to say the least. However, while she was healing, she had other things in mind and in a way it was just as bad.

Saber was teaching him how to dance, of which many would doubt the practicality. Saber was just as strict with dance lessons as she was with sparring. If he misstepped they started again. Not only that but for the first time Kanima felt uncomfortable in such close quarters with a girl. Mainly because- even injured- she could wipe the floor with him which was an uncomfortable thought to say the least. Now as for why he was learning to dance, that was the interesting part. Saber had gone into a ten-minute spiel about how it could help him. From what he gathered, it went something like this.

"Battle and dancing are not so mutually separate," she had said, grabbing his hand in hers and putting her injured one around his waist. "Both- when done right- require movement and absolute control over one's body. The most important part, though, is learning to count and move to beats. By learning rhythm, it will allow you to see the rhythm that others move to in real life. In battle, there is no such thing as an infinite combo of hits. Many combatants learn a style or set of combos that they splice together, but all would have a countable number of strikes and attacks. Learn the rhythm of their fighting style and you could find the best moment to counterattack or potentially even copy their style."

This brought up one question in Kanima's mind, namely- where had Saber learned all of this? Kamina, being as blunt as per the usual, decided to blurt out this question mere moments later.

"Hey Saber, where did you learn all of this stuff anyway?" he asked. She seemed to be reminiscing, her expression vacant and sad. After a few awkward moments of silence, she replied to the question.

"For many years, I trained to be a knight. Female knights weren't exactly typical in my era, as you can imagine. In fact, apart from me, there was only one other who I knew of. She was a powerful queen and an even more powerful knight. I admit that she was my idol. Then, she died rather suddenly on the field of battle, but if anything that made me want to be a knight even more to honor and one day surpass that woman. In pursuing that goal, I searched far and wide till I met a rather strange man, who unlike all others cared not that I was a girl. He was rather old and wise and he hailed from Camelot, the kingdom that my idol had once ruled, and thus my training began."

Kanima was rather at a loss for words. He felt as if he was coming a bit closer to understanding his mysterious Servant, but only time would tell what fate held in store for them.

* * *

 _Location: Mercy Fuyuki Hospital, Fuyuki City, Japan_

Andrei got out of the car in the parking lot, making his way towards the looming hospital building, its many windows glowing like yellow eyes in the night. Above, Assassin darted from lamppost from lamppost until he arrived at the hospital, climbing on the outside with superhuman skill and speed. Andrei would be taking a more mundane route to Ibori's seventh floor room- namely, the elevator. He had also had Assassin remove his Hidden Dark from his person, so he wouldn't frighten anyone in the hospital like a ghost.

Andrei entered the building, the automatic doors sliding open for him and inviting him. Up above, Assassin coasted up the side of the building from balcony to balcony, his agile, strong legs launching him up higher and higher. He could see the balcony to Ibori's room, his heightened assassin's eyesight allowing him to see Ibori's close-cropped head in the window. Assassin alighted on the balcony and waited for Andrei to arrive. He sent a mental message, informing Andrei that Ibori was alone save for a single burly guard. Lancer was nowhere to be seen.

All of a sudden, as he watched, a blast of purple light originating from a complex-looking glyph struck the balcony where he stood, blowing it to pieces. He launched into the air just in time, deftly flipping onto the next-door ledge. Whirling around, he faced his enemy. She was a woman, pale, of exquisite beauty, her velvet-green dress flowing around her slender limbs. She was barefoot, silver bangles hanging from her ankles. Her hair flickered back and forth in the wind like a flame, and her eyes glowed a brilliant scarlet, magical runes burning at their perimeter.

 _So, that's how she is able to see me,_ Assassin thought, drawing his sword. The woman merely laughed.

"Draw your sword, you sneaking little rat," she sneered, her voice filled with disdain. She pursed her full lips before grinning widely. "You won't stop me from having my prey."

 _Is she here for Ibori as well?_ thought Assassin. _It only makes sense. Other Masters are no doubt anxious to kill Ibori when he's weakened as well. it seems others are finally making their move._ He slashed his blade through the air in a vicious arc, creating a sword-like burst of wind that launched towards the woman. She fired a volley of glowing purple energy in response, curving towards him but the wind cut through them and the glyph that was their source in one strike, cutting a thin line on her face which began to drip with her bright red blood. Her lip curled into a snarl, before smirking as the glyph he cut became two glyphs rather like a hydra. From these glyphs descended another wave of purple energy bolts, but this time Assassin was ready. He ran up the building at full speed, dashing past the bolts and missing them by a whisker. However, Caster did not seem to perturbed by the situation.

"You can run all you like, you little rat," she hissed, "but I'll end your life just the same." In her hands, she gathered a massive ball of blue light- fire, Assassin realized, which she hurled at him. Assassin grinned, landing atop the roof of the building the hospital just as the blue fire smashed into his body. But rather than burning him, the flames trickled along the length of his sword, power rushing through his body and burning away at the residual poison left in his veins from Lancer's attack.

"Ah much better now," muttered Assassin, speaking for the first time, chuckling at Caster's flabbergasted facial expression. "It will be a breeze to kill you now," he sneered. This exuberance was short-lived when a dome of glyphs surrounded him, glowing brighter as they spun, faster and faster.

"You little rat, there's one thing you forgot to take into account. We are on top of a major Fuyuki ley line that I, as a Caster, can draw power from." She smiled softly. Many would call it a beautiful smile one that would enchant many, but assassin saw the truth. It was a revolting smile filled with deceit and ambition.

"One thing is sure to catch a rat, you know," she continued. The glyphs flashed brilliantly, pouring all of their magic energy into the space where Assasin resided. "A trap." When the light faded and the glyphs broke, Assassin was on his knees, smoke rising from his clothing, but still very much alive.

 _I was hoping not to have to use it, but it seems I have no choice,_ Assassin thought to himself. _Forgive me, Master, but I must take a large amount of mana for a while._ He stood up, gripping his katana in both hands. The wind began to surge forth from the air around his body, whipping back and gathering around the sword, much like a violent maelstrom, tearing tiles from the roof and launching them into the night sky. He swung the sword in a quick draw, once more, but the wind from this strike was considerably more powerful, causing the very air to ripple with power before he disappeared. Caster heard him mutter something before he was in front of her. His lips formed one word- _Kusanagi._

She barely dodged his strike, but Assassin was so quick it had no effect. Before she could react, she was caught in a tremendous maelstrom of wind, her form tossed back and forth like a ragdoll in the fingers. Her ears popped and all she could hear was the tremendous roar of the storm, a terrifically powerful wall of sound that shattered the windows of the hospital below. When the wind dissipated, a stunned Caster could be seen tumbling from the sky, before she faded into spirit form. An instant later, and she would have splattered on the parking lot.

Meanwhile, Assassin had fallen flat on his face on the roof of the hospital, his back rising and falling heavily with each shaky breath. As an Assassin-class Servant, pulling off such a powerful evocation was incredibly difficult.

"Well, well, well how the mighty have fallen. How are you doing there, Assassin? Not feeling so good?" A shower of silver mist descended in front of Assassin, Lancer materializing within it. Lancer towered over the downed Assassin, his spear pointing at the nape of Assassin's neck.

"I could pierce your spine right now, like how your Master did to me," muttered Lancer softly, lowering down and spitting on the back of Assassin's head. Assassin could not move. "But I am in a good mood to see you in such distress. It would be a pity to end it so soon. Next time I see you, I want to beat you at your best and show you how much of a difference there truly is between us. So off you go now. You have till the count of ten, lest I get impatient," he threatened.

Assassin was not back on his feet, the situation was not in his favor. It was time to retreat. With that, he dragged himself over the edge of the building, fading into a shower of black mist.

"I've repulsed Assassin for now, Master," said Lancer telepathically to his Master. When he got the nature of his Master's response, his eyes widened and he swore under his breath. "I'm coming," he said before vanishing into a cloud of silver.

A few moments earlier, Andrei had arrived at the seventh floor, cloaking himself with an invisibility spell of his own. It was not so much an invisibility spell than it was one which shrouded the user from an observer's interest, making them completely blend into the scenery. Andrei had already done the same thing to his chosen weapons, a long-bladed hunting knife, two grenades, and a Glock 9mm handgun.

He pushed open the door to Ibori's room, startling the prince. Ibori wore a hospital gown and several bandages wrapped around his chest and neck to contain the wound that Assassin had dealt him. His movements were steady and strong, however, indicating to Andrei that he might have already healed a majority of the wound. Such was the power of magic. Andrei shook off his musings and pulled the gun from his coat, flicking the hammer and pulling the trigger. The deafening crash brought Ibori to his senses, and before the bullet even had time to reach him, Lancer had arrived, blocking the bullet with his spear. The shock of his point-blank attack failing so badly caused Andrei to drop his cloaking spell by accident.

In such close quarters, Andrei had little hope of fighting both Ibori and Lancer with much success, causing him to reach for one of the grenades on his belt. He pulled the pin with his teeth and it bounced along the ground before exploding into a thick cloud of smoke, obscuring Andrei's exit from the room. Lancer's spear grazed his right arm in a lucky blow through the smoke, followed by a crackling charge of lightning-infused crystals from Ibori. Bursting forth from several gems scattered around the hall- traps that Ibori had previously set- came several spear like bolts of silver energy, several of which pierced Andrei's body at his shoulders and legs. He grunted from the pain but managed to pull himself free, running down the hall towards the elevator.

Ibori's security on the seventh floor reacted to his running by shooting him with their automatic weapons, but Andrei swiped his hand through the air and an invisible wall of force separated him and the bullets, causing them to ricochet back and leave him unharmed. With his other arm, he shot the elevator control panel and forced the door open, darting up the elevator shaft using his magnetic red prana. The security guards fired their guns up at him, but seeing the tremendous drop below and the heights above caused them to lose their nerve.

* * *

 _Location: Grand Hotel Fuyuki, Fuyuki City, Japan_

Andrei was not pleased. In fact, many would say furious. Yet again, that annoying prince and his Servant had evaded death. To add to this frustration, his prana reserves were practically non-existent. He didn't know what Assassin had done, but it was far too costly for his liking and far too flashy. They would be having serious words when Assassin got back to their hiding place in the hotel.

True enough, Assassin materialized on the bed, looking somewhat dejected. Andrei rounded on him, shouting louder than the quiet-mannered assassin had ever done.

"What happened out there?" he demanded. "I was just about ready to take out Ibori when Lancer shows up and you are nowhere to be found. If you had been there to hold off Lancer, we might have had a chance of achieving our goals."

Assassin shook his head. "That may have been true, but I was occupied in battling Caster."

"Caster was there? Where?"

"Outside," replied Assassin. "She ambushed me as I was making my way up the side of the building. She possessed many powerful ranged attacks, and after she worked me into a corner I was forced to use my Noble Phantasm to escape." Assassin flexed his limbs. "However, Caster did attempt to attack me with flame, which I was able to use in conjunction with my Wind Shroud ability to heal Lancer's poison from earlier."

"So that's what happened," said Andrei. "It seems as if the use of your Noble Phantasm is what drained all my prana. I was barely able to escape that hospital with my life."

"I apologize, Master, and I understand why this was so important to you. However, it might be prudent to turn our attentions elsewhere, to deal with Caster's Master or the Masters of the other two Servants that fall under the Knight Classes. They would pose the most threat to us."

Andrei responded curtly. "We can't give up on our work with Ibori. This is all part of a greater strategy, Assassin, even these failures. The longer we wear him down, the more likely he is to make a mistake. And when he does, we'll be ready to take advantage of it and kill him. Plus, it seems as if revealing Lancer's Noble Phantasm in our first battle has earned us some aid, even if Caster wanted to kill you in the process." He frowned. "Leave me, Assassin. I have a lot to think about." With that, the said Servant faded into a dark murky mist, leaving Andrei with his thoughts. Attacking someone else would be futile. It had to be Ibori, and it had to be soon.

Andrei put his head in his hands. The feelings that bubbled up inside him, particularly when he looked upon Assassin, were not good. Having spent so much time with another human-esque being was causing his cravings to begin. His fears could very well be realized. The urge to drink from Assassin had been especially strong, and since Assassin was so obedient to Andrei, there was a very real chance that when the time came, Assassin would not stop him.

 _Location: Fuyuki Town House, Fuyuki City, Japan_

As Waver looked over the reports from his familiars that had scattered throughout the city, he felt less and less confident. From what he had gathered via Volumen Hydrargium, there had already been several skirmishes around Fuyuki. One had even involved three Servants, a Saber-class, a Rider-class and the Archer-class. Assassin and his Master had been fairly active, with some sort of vendetta against Lancer and his Master. Things seemed to be accelerating quickly, which was bad news. Not only that, his Servant seemed utterly incapable of making a simple cup of tea. She came over with another cup of what appeared to be grass clippings in hot water. He put it aside, and she stood next to his chair stoically, guarding it like a dog. It was rather embarrassing.

He looked over his shoulder at his Servant. Physically, Berserker was the most powerful of all the Servants. A description in one of his class textbooks had described the Berserker class as "capable of fighting all six other classes in combat and winning". Berserker's strength far outstripped any existing spirit or human, but she was essentially uncontrollable. Berserker couldn't really be used without causing vast amounts of destruction, which is why he had apprehension about engaging in combat.

 _After all,_ he thought, _I've seen the destructive potential of the Berserker class before. Plus, I have no idea what Berserker's abilities may be, since I summoned her by accident. There's no way for me to tell what they are without having her fight, but if I do so there's the potential for loss of life on a scale that I would rather avoid._

Then his mind drifted to his old friend. What would have wanted Waver to do? Waver smirked. He'd probably have said something along the lines of, _What's the point of a weapon you can't use?_ He frowned and looked at Berserker once again. She was a weapon, a weapon for him to use. Her purpose was destruction. If he didn't capitalize on that, then he would spend this whole war sitting around doing nothing.

 _I'll do it,_ he thought. _Today, I'm going on the attack. Even if I have to use all my strength to hold Berserker back, I'll do it._ He considered his options, poring through the information Volumen Hydrargium had collected on his enemies. Assassin and his Master, now that they had retreated, were essentially untraceable. Lancer and Prince Ishmael would no doubt have gone to the protection of the embassy.

"I won't be able to go to them," he mused aloud, "So I'm going to have to get them to come to me. Once I lure them into a confined area with Berserker, they're as good as dead."

 _Location: Abandoned Reservoir, Fuyuki City, Japan_

The reservoir was a perfect location. A deep concrete bowl, surrounded by high electrified fences, it seemed the best venue for Waver's trap. Berserker had cleared the fence with one jump while Waver relied on Volumen Hydrargium's strength to propel him across. Now, he stood in the bowl, Berserker at his side. This was a daring move, and his heart was racing, but he had the feeling that he would find success tonight. There was no point to hiding, not anymore. He had to be bold, make the first move in his conquest. That was what Iskander had taught him.

Thrusting his hands into the air, he sent up a burst of bright green light that exploded above his head- a powerful flare of prana, noticeable to anyone of the magical inclination in this part of the city. It was bait, so the chances were that any Master who would send his Servant to the reservoir was either really confident or really stupid. He grinned. Better to get those types out of the way first, and then move on to the easy targets.

Before long, a shimmer of golden light began to form in the bowl with them. Within it appeared an incredibly well-built man with skin the color of caramel, with long black hair and a dominating mantle over his shoulders. Gripped in one hand was a golden crook, in the other, a silver-spiked flail.

"You should know that a challenge to a king's authority will be met in kind, Master of Berserker." The man appeared calm, even though Berserker was trembling with anger, ready to strike at any moment. He faced his opponent. "Hail, Berserker. I think we shall fight now, agreed?"

Waver stepped out of the way as Berserker lunged with all of her strength, a speeding bullet of silver. She drew back her fist and it shot forward with such strength and speed that the air burst in a sonic boom around it, sending Rider shooting backward. But Rider wasn't phased, coming to a halt and pointing the crook at Berserker. A storm of golden shards of light launched forth from the weapon, smashing into Berserker's armor with blinding radiance. Though they didn't pierce through, they were clearly slowing, if not halting, Berserker's approach.

Rider let up his relentless fire and returned with a swing of his flail. A thick band of force emanated from the tips of the flails, smashing into Berserker's body and crashing her into the concrete side of the reservoir. She was prepared for this however and landed on her feet and instantly, leaping into the air before coming down with a thundering crash that spewed stone and dust in the air. She continued this tack, spinning herself into the air and landing ever closer to Rider while Rider countered with force attacks and light bursts from his crook.

Waver retreated a distance from the fight that occurred in the center of the bowl when he felt a prickle on the back of his neck. A sheet of silver liquid rose behind him, neatly deflecting the incoming bullet from a sniper rifle. Waver whirled around to see a man lying on his stomach at the perimeter of the reservoir, with white hair and red eyes. _An Einzbern,_ he thought. _Is that Rider's Master? One way to find out.  
_ He extended his hand, and a couple of thick tendrils of the same silver liquid- Volumen Hydrargium- shot towards the white-haired man, destroying the ground where he had stood just a moment before. The Einzbern whipped the rifle around, firing two more shots in quick succession. Both were blocked by Volumen Hydrargium's autonomous defense. Waver sent a few more tendrils flying towards the Einzbern. He swiped his hand across his body, creating a net made out of glowing white thread that ensnared and severed the liquid, causing it to dissolve. Waver huffed and chased after the Einzbern as he began to make his escape.

Meanwhile, Rider managed to solidly strike Berserker with his crook, catching her strongly in the midriff. The raging armored Servant howled with inhuman rage and recoiled from the blow, dripping blood from her full lips. Rider smirked and loosed another volley of energy bolts to keep her at bay, all the while boasting.

"So this is the strongest Servant of the Grail War? I don't believe it," he laughed out loud. "Perhaps the reputation of the Berserker class is merely exaggerated. It sure seems that way."

Berserker howled with all her might. The single golden ring on her finger flashed bright purple. Rider instinctively recoiled from the sight of it. _A Noble Phantasm?_ he thought to himself. His thoughts were cut short by a tremendous blow to his abdomen that knocked all the wind out of his lungs. Looking down, he saw that Berserker had smashed into his chest with an oblong silver shield, in the middle of which a gold crystal punctured his abdomen. Blood trickled from the wound. Rider tore himself away with a grunt and swiped with his flail. Berserker deflected the force blast with her shield.

 _So the ring conjures a shield,_ thought Rider. _That must be her Noble Phantasm. And yet, it doesn't help me discover her identity. If she were just to name it…_ He brought down both the crook and the flail upon the shield. The shield caught the force of both weapons, shaking with the pure force, but held steady. Eventually, the recoil blasted back at Rider, sending him flying. He crashed into the bowl, gasping for breath.

Berserker leapt into the air and was coming down for a final blow, when a streak of gunmetal grey tore through the night sky, slicing clear across the madwoman's breastplate in a shower of sparks. She spun away from the attack as the blurry metal object whirled back around to its owner. Landing gracefully with both feet, she retreated to the edge of the bowl, watching the newcomer with angry eyes. Lancer stood atop the fence that separated the reservoir from the outside world, his spear returning to his hand in an instant.

Rider laughed. "Gods above. Can I not go one battle without interruptions? I would assume you are Lancer. You have my thanks for putting off that woman for a moment."

"That is no woman," said Lancer calmly. "All I see is a feral, slavering bitch, to be put down like any other rabid dog. My Master is being rash in sending me here, but there is nothing I can do. I would think my chance of victory would be considerably higher if the two of us were to align for the moment, Rider. What say you?"

Rider stood up and pointed his crook at Berserker. "I would think that more than fair. Berserker is the biggest threat here to me. I've seen you in combat before, Lancer, and I was not impressed. However, any aid against an opponent as strong as this is welcome in my eyes." He loosed a volley of light bolts at Berserker, who once again deflected them with her shield.

Lancer snarled. "You will pay for your words, Rider," he hissed, then launched forward. Berserker was more than capable of blocking Rider's barrage, but now she had to contend with Lancer as well. The spearman pressed towards her in a wide arc, then shot forward, the tip of his spear striking out like a bullet. The blade caught a chink in Berserker's armor and bit into her flesh. She howled with rage and whirled around, her armored fist catching ahold of Lancer's forearm before he could react. She roared defiantly and closed her fingers, crushing Lancer's arm in her hand. Lancer screamed and fell away from her as blood dripped from his crushed arm.

Rider launched forward now, throwing his crook like a boomerang. The weapon exploded in a burst of golden light, blinding Berserker. With his other hand, he connected a firm blow with his crook, sending the madwoman shooting into the sky. Berserker whirled through the night air like a deadly ballerina before slamming back down into the ground mere inches from where Rider stood. He grunted as the pointed crystal on her shield punctured his back, leaving a wetly gleaming red hole when she pulled away. He looked around for Lancer, to see the other Servant leap over the fence to safety.

The wind was knocked out of him in short order by a thundering punch from Berserker, forcing him onto his knees. Berserker had no mercy for the downed Servant, smashing him in the head with her shield. Rider saw stars behind his vision and a flare of pain erupted in his skull as he shot away from Berserker with the force of a cannonball. He crashed into the reservoir bowl, feeling something crack beneath him. It was not the stone.

Waver looked over to the battle in the reservoir. From the continually tugging sensation on his prana reserves, it was clear that his control over Berserker was in dire straits. She could no longer be held back with a simple thought. The angrier she got, the stronger she became, but that also applied to her magical strength as well. When she was in a rage, as she was now, it would take a lot more than a simple though to bring her back under control. After all, Waver had commanded her to let loose, as it were. That was a stupid idea.

Not a fraction of a second later, Rider felt an immense wave of power originating from Berserker's position before she disappeared in an intense burst of speed, a crater left in her wake by the intense force. Rider attempted to raise his fail, feeling like the pain was splitting open his torso, but this was all for naught. Berserker appeared above him, her hand grabbing his face brutally before slamming it into the ground in one deft and powerful motion. Several of his teeth shattered with the impact, and his nose crunched under the force of the attack. She was not finished, though, and lifting him by his literal face she flung Rider a good 20 meters away from her. The woman then turned to Lancer and grinned menacingly.

Lancer could tell this was going to hurt a lot, and he had just recovered too. Berserker punched the earth, raising a huge slab of rock. She then lifted it over her head before launching it at staggering speed towards Lancer. He was done. There was no way he could block that. Luckily for him, fate smiled on him. There was a blinding flash of golden light before the rock was launched back at Berserker, courtesy of Rider on his restored solar barge.

Berserker howled at the failure of her attack and easily shattered the rock with a punishing kick. She was about to re-engage with the man atop the shining golden boat before she turned off towards the distance, scenting the air. It seemed her master was in need of help. Once again the woman disappeared in an astounding cloud of concrete dust.

Waver was having a real problem. The Einzbern boy was not to much to deal with. From what he could tell, the sniper had vanished into thin air, leaving in his place a smaller yet far deadlier opponent- an Einzbern girl. He had encountered one like her before. The one he had met was kind and had wanted nothing more than to help him and his Servant against a great evil. This Einzbern seemed determined to kill him at any cost.

"Zelle!" she cried. From her fingertips came a glowing white thread, which wove itself into the shape of a gigantic bird that flew for him, talons outstretched. His Volumen Hydrargium smashed through its chest, but the bird merely unraveled and reformed at a safe distance, cutting into his forearms with its claws. He gasped as blood trickled from the wounds and his autonomous barrier kicked in, shearing the bird in half. He sent a stream of Volumen Hydrargium to her, which she deftly dodged.

She smirked. "Nice try," she taunted.

Waver grinned in return. "I wasn't trying to hit you." The Einzbern girl whirled around to find herself in the grasp of a fluid, female figure made out of mercury. Waver had shaped Volumen Hydrargium into a human construct to hold the Einzbern. _Something Kayneth never could do,_ he thought to himself proudly.

The Einzbern created another thin white cord and waved it through the air. Waver thought she was perhaps surrendering when the mercury golem detached into four distinct pieces that sloughed to the ground. The Einzbern had cut through Volumen Hydrargium with that wire. _No, not a wire,_ thought Waver with building dread, _a hair!_

Three new white cords shot from her fingertips and wrapped themselves around his neck and legs in the blink of an eye, cutting off his breathing. He spluttered for breath as the hair tightened. _A homunculus that can perform magic,_ he thought. _So the Einzberns really can do it._ His vision began to go black. _Berserker… help…_

There was a tremendous explosion of dust and dirt as Berserker slammed into the earth between Waver and the Einzbern. She snapped two of the hairs with her fists and tore the last one with her sharp teeth. Before Waver could react, the Servant had scooped him up and launched into the air. He noticed that the shield she was now wearing on her arm shrunk back into a ring when she took to the sky. The Einzbern protested with a cry and sent another three cords into the air after them, but Berserker swiped them away with a forceful blow. She landed and launched herself again, carrying them away.

Waver frowned and pounded on her arm. "We have to go back, Berserker! We can win!"

She scowled but did not turn back.

"Did you defeat the other Servants?"

She nodded, and Waver felt something like hope rising in his chest. Perhaps summoning a Servant like this would work to his favor if she could single-handedly fight off two Servants. This Holy Grail War may have been going his way after all.

* * *

 _Fuyuki city, Fuyuki City airport, private runway 3_

"man it has been a long time since we have been here so many years wonder how much has changed," a tall man with mostly red hair and the occasional white streak said turning to his companions.

"yes quite however don't get lots reminding we came here to finally put an end to this madness" replied the man's brown haired companion.

while at the back of their small party a blonde-haired woman looked on in determination.

He could only smirk so it seems they had work to do, there had already been some battles going on in the city from what he could tell from his contacts. this war was only going to end one way no matter what they would be the victors. a new faction had joined the battle.

* * *

A/N: thanks for reading don't forget to leave an review and ill see you next time.


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